See The World
by Jen89
Summary: A collection of one shots based on moments in Draco Malfoy's life. Some moments are in the books, some aren't. Written for Jillie Bean's Song and Dance Challenge on the HPFC Forum.
1. See The World

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. Each chapter title will be a name from a song from the 'House M.D.' Soundtrack and so the titles belong to their respective artists.**

_This was written for Jillie Bean's Song and Dance Challenge on the HPFC Forum. This is going to be a collection of one-shots inspired by the songs on the soundtrack for the TV show House M.D. They will centre around Draco Malfoy and the story will be twelve chapters long._

_Hope you like it._

_Jenny_

See the World.

It all depended on perspective. That was what Draco Malfoy had decided a long time ago and, stubborn to a fault, he would be damned if he'd change his mind now. If anything, his ideas had only developed over the years and now more than ever, he was certain that looking at things from a slightly different angle shed a whole new light on things.

It was like the view from his bedroom window. Standing a couple of feet away from the glass, he couldn't see the play park down the road but if he shifted to the right of the pane and pressed his cheek against the glass, he could just about make out the swings. And they were never empty.

He spent a lot of his childhood pressed against that window, watching the children come and go, laughing as they ran, crying as their mothers kissed their skinned knees, bouncing back up and sprinting to the roundabout, injuries long forgotten. When he finally pulled away from the window after watching them for a while, with a face moist from condensation and a soul lonelier than ever, he was left with his increasingly complicated thoughts.

He had come to the conclusion that he would always be the one with a cheek pressed against the glass, seeing the world at a slightly different angle to others. It was on those long afternoons all those years ago that he first decided that perspective was everything. He saw things differently, that's all.

So far, his theory had never failed him. Everything could be explained by a difference in perspective, differing views of the world.

There were people, like Harry Potter and his little friends, who looked at the wounds of the world and believed it was possible to kiss them all better, like those mothers in the park who kissed their children's' bumped heads and scraped elbows. They believed the world was theirs to fix and that it was possible to do so with some wishful thinking and a bizarre mix of bravery and downright idiocy.

Draco didn't agree with them.

Draco didn't think it was possible to heal all the problems of the world that had probably been there since the beginning. Bad things would always exist. But then there would always be good things to make the world just that bit more bearable. It was futile to try and fix the world because problems were being made all the time and to try and solve them would only drive you mad.

Then you had your Luna Lovegoods of the world.

Somehow she didn't quite fall into the first category. While seemingly acknowledging the bad things, she apparently didn't pay them much attention until they were absolutely unavoidable. She covered everything up with her light attitude which only seemed to serve the purpose of making her Gryffindor friends like her more. They forgot while they were with her. She seemed to make everything easier. He supposed that's why they liked her so much. An easier life was something which they had never appeared to have. Draco laughed internally at this thought. Life was not designed to be easy. He'd learnt that lesson years ago.

Then there were people like Crabbe and Goyle who saw the world and its people as an opportunity to survive.

They armed themselves with the people who they believed most useful to them. Make friends with the powerful and survive was their motto and Draco never made the mistake of underestimating them. They would never win any general knowledge quiz, he knew (but what use were they unless you had a strange desire to win a cheap and questionable bottle of wine?), but they had their own brand of intelligence.

The first mark of their sort of cleverness is that they didn't let anyone know that they weren't idiotic apes.

Manipulative? Maybe. Clever? Oh definitely.

To take any situation and turn it to your advantage is intelligent. For nobody else to realise you're doing it is a feat of intelligence of immense proportions. Survival of the fittest, and all that. And, despite what everyone thought, Crabbe and Goyle's type of intelligence meant they would survive.

Draco? Draco was still reserving judgement. He hadn't seen enough to come to a definitive conclusion. Every time something happened it changed his opinion. One thing held true, though: It was all about perspective.


	2. Beautiful

**Disclaimer: Neither the character of Draco Malfoy nor any othe characters you recognise from Harry Potter is mine. The chapter title is from the soundtrack to the House M.D. and belongs to Elvis Costello.**

_I'm not sure how I feel about this one, really. I quite like it but Draco's character was difficult. I thought he would act slightly differently with his fellow Slytherins than how he acts with the Gryffindors, and as the books follow Harry we only ever see him acting one way around Harry, Ron and Hermione. I tried to keep his attitude the same when dealing with Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs but changed it slightly when he's talking to the Slytherins. Hope you like it._

_Jenny_

Beautiful.

It was, in a word, ridiculous. He _felt_ ridiculous. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the most ridiculous a person could feel, Draco Malfoy was definitely peaking at around seventeen and a half. In short totally and completely ridiculous. The only consolation was that Weasley's dressrobes and Potter's dancing looked at least as stupid as Draco felt.

He sniggered as he saw Pavarti Patil wince when Potter stepped, rather heavily, on her foot. At least this absurd 'Yule Ball' idea had some perks. Watching everyone else make a fool of themselves (while hopefully avoiding the same fate himself) being the main one of them. It was almost worth dressing up like a complete prat to watch Potter's ineffectual attempts at dancing. He almost felt sorry for Patil but he squashed that idea before it had even formed properly in his mind. If she chose to go with Potter the wonder child, then it was her problem, not his.

Now if only he didn't have Pansy hanging like a dead weight off his arm. Pansy was pretty enough in her own way but really the basis of her appeal was that she was just there. She was comfortable. She wasn't too argumentative. And he could tolerate her... most of the time.

"Come on Draco. Dance with me?" Pansy's voice came from his left where she was clutching his arm and looking up at him.

"I told you, I don't want to. I don't feel like it."

"It's just one dance. This is a _dance_ after all."

"Technically it's a ball." He knew it was childish but he was in the mood to play with semantics, especially as he knew he could easily win. "And I see nobody whipping out the cricket wickets, do you?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "You're being ridiculous."

There was that word again.

The word that summed up the entire evening absolutely perfectly.

It was totally ridiculous, ludicrous, insane, pointless, stupid and any other negative adjectives that were currently leaping to mind.

They stood in silence for a few moments before Pansy snorted, a short burst of laughter that quickly drew Draco's attention simply because it sounded as if she were choking. If asked later, of course, he would deny this uncharacteristic iota of concern was anything other than desire to keep his dress robes dry if she decided to splutter all over them. It just wouldn't do for a Malfoy to feel concerned. The moment he realised she was laughing he turned away, moving his eyes back to the dancers, disinterested once more. Pansy's eyes were also locked onto the twirling couples.

"How long do you think it took Cinderella to look like that?" she asked suddenly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Granger." Pansy said, as if it was obvious and Draco was a moron for not guessing. "All the guys are impressed with her tonight. She's looking... less disgusting than usual."

Draco smirked, knowing that that was the closest Granger would ever get to a compliment from Pansy, an implied insult when neither Granger nor anyone who was likely to tell her were present, delivered as if the words were acid, burning Pansy's throat on the way up. Abruptly he realised Pansy was waiting for a response.

"I hadn't noticed."

"Come on. You must've. Everyone else has."

"I'm not everyone else. Besides, whatever she looks like, she's still Granger."

It was true. Draco honestly hadn't even considered Granger's appearance for more than a second. Quick glance, nothing blindingly obvious to criticise, move on. There was no point in admiring something he would never in a million years go near. It was just a waste of time.

There were some very attractive girls to look at tonight though, he had to admit. As much as he hated balls and dances, and many other formal occasions masquerading as 'fun,' he could appreciate the highlighted beauty that a few hours of effort produced. As he looked around, his eyes were drawn to a pair of girls a few feet away. The Greengrass girls.

Daphne, the eldest, was a Fourth Year, like himself, and was wearing emerald green dress robes which sparkled as if the gown was made of millions of tiny gems. Her dark blonde hair was almost brown and, on this occasion, was loose and curled, brushing her shoulders everytime she turned her head. Beautiful.

Her younger sister Astoria was in the Second Year, a Slytherin too, of course. Her hair was much darker and tied up, and her eyes a dark blue. Her dress was lilac and just grazed the floor when she walked, lifting up slightly when her feet move revealing elegant high heeled shoes. Beautiful again.

Daphne had asked Goyle to take her sister to the Yule Ball a few weeks before, knowing how much her little sister wanted to go. Astoria agreed but both were aware that this was just a way to get her into the Ball.

Draco suspected Astoria did not know Daphne had asked Goyle to do this for her, as she was too proud to ask and Daphne too proud to tell. Astoria and Goyle were each other's 'date' in name only and shortly after arrival, had parted company to spend time with their respective friends.

Although Daphne and Astoria were speaking in hushed tones, it was clear they were arguing, and their volume was rapidly rising.

"... don't see what right you think you have!" Astoria was saying.

"Tori, I told you-" Daphne replied her hair sweeping over her eyes as her head moved in violent, jerky movements in her obvious irritation.

"Astoria. It's Astoria. How many more times? Get it right. Anyway, you can't tell me..."

"Yes I can! Mother specifically told me..."

"... don't care! It's one night, Daphne. I can do what I like!"

"You're thirteen! Go..."

"No! I'm staying here!"

With that Astoria turned on her heel and walked away from her sister who watched her go before throwing her hands up in a melodramatic gesture and storming off in the opposite direction. The focus of Draco's interest now gone, he turned back to Pansy, who looked sullen and sulky at being ignored.

"Come on. There's a table over there."

* * *

A short while later and nothing much had changed. Draco was still sat at the table, watching the dancers with practised disinterest and Pansy was sat with him, although she had been dancing with various other members of the Slytherin house occasionally. Draco had tuned out Pansy's gossip about who was going out with who and his eager eyes remained fixed on the dance floor, or rather the area that had been cleared of tables that people had elected to dance in.

"Can we abandon the small talk?" Draco said abruptly, keeping his gaze trained on the dancers, his eager eyes watching for any mistakes that could be used as ammunition at a later date. Among other things Draco had not missed the jealous looks Weasley had been throwing in Granger and Viktor Krum's direction all night. That was bound to be useful material for winding up Weasley in the future.

"What and sit here in silence?"

"Works for me." He glanced across at her upset face. "I'm just not in the mood, alright?" Pansy nodded, instantly appeased and moved her chair slightly closer to his.

"Draco, Pansy, have you seen Astoria? I can't find her." Daphne Greengrass had appeared beside them, scanning the crowd for any sign of her younger sister.

"Not since you were arguing over there."

"I wish she'd just do as she's told."

"What were you talking to her about?"

"Mother told me to make sure she was back in the Common Room before half past ten. And she was not to drink anything that might have been spiked... or go outside on her own. Very protective of her little Tori, my mother is." Daphne's tone was light but her face betraying her annoyance at her mother and sibling. "Anyway, I'm going to have to go and ask around. No having fun while my sister's being a brat. Call me over if you spot her?" And without waiting for an answer she had disappeared into the crowd once more.

A few minutes later, Draco pushed his chair out from the table and stood up.

"Where're you going?" Pansy asked, instantly alert.

"Drinks." He gestured towards the table laden with food and drinks of all sorts. "I'll be back soon."

He headed over to the table, instantly more relaxed as he escaped the main crowd and his personal space was re-established once more. He grabbed a glass of Pumpkin juice and took a sip, grinning internally when his sense of taste told him Daphne's mother's concerns had not been unfounded- the drinks had indeed been spiked. It surely wouldn't be long before Dumbledore found out and fixed it but before that happened...

Draco quickly downed his drink and poured himself another. He was in the process of turning to head back to the table with a drink for himself and Pansy (never let it be said that Draco Malfoy didn't look after his dates) when he spotted someone standing in a shadowed alcove at the edge of the room and he stopped to regard the figure more closely. He grinned when he recognised the dark hair and lilac dress of Astoria Greengrass.

He changed course and headed over to where she was standing alone.

"You hiding?" Draco asked as he reached her.

"Of course not." Astoria replied, as if offended by the very idea.

"So what are you doing standing in a dark corner?"

"Enjoying the show. What else?" Astoria gestured, grinning, to a pair of Ravenclaws 'dancing' nearby. Draco followed her gaze and snorted with laughter as he saw the boy attempt to twirl the girl, accidently knocking her into a table. They watched in silence for a few seconds, the smile disappearing from Astoria's face as she thoughtfully surveyed the room.

Draco looked back at her. "Your sister's looking for you."

"And Pansy's looking for you." She nodded towards the drinks table where, sure enough, Pansy stood, obviously scanning the area for her date. Draco nodded but didn't make any move to join Pansy.

"I'll find her later." He looked back at Astoria. "Nice dress."

Astoria met his eyes and smiled the thanks her lips did not speak. "Daphne doesn't think so. She thinks it 'unpatriotic' to not come in green. But I told her that I wasn't wearing blue, yellow or red so I don't think it's a problem." Her words sounded unconcerned but Draco could see she was troubled by Daphne's words. She was worried what her fellow Slytherins would think and Draco decided to alleviate her fears.

"Like I said, nice dress." Draco repeated. She smiled and turned her blue eyes back to the dance floor.

Draco watched her for a few more seconds in silence. She was a good kid really and another one of the few people on the list of people he could endure. He considered her a friend, or at least someone who was good to talk to. He knew she worried about how her sister and the rest of the Slytherin House saw her. He imagined it was difficult living in the shadow of a sibling and Astoria seemed to have been feeling it especially keenly recently as Daphne had increased her rigour in schooling her to become a young woman and a model Slytherin.

Sensing his intense gaze Astoria glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny she swallowed before gesturing out to the Beauxbatons, Durmstrang and Hogwarts students mixing before their eyes.

"This place is turning into something from a corny old film. You watch, any second they'll burst into spontaneous song about the wonders of friendship."

Draco let out a short laugh and shook his head. "It wouldn't surprise me."

On the dance floor the students jumped and laughed as the song rose into a crescendo and Draco waited for the music to die down a little before speaking again.

"So what were you and Daphne so worked up about?"

"She hasn't already told you the sordid details? I saw you talking to her a few minutes ago. I assume you asked her."

"And now I'm asking you."

"She seems to think I'm still six years old. I told her, I said I didn't need babysitting constantly." Then, as if seized by a sudden suspicion, Astoria's eyes narrowed. Unlike when other people did it, Draco was surprised to note that it did actually make her seem more intimidating, even if she was a thirteen year old girl and no physical threat to him whatsoever. She continued, "Is that why you're here? Did Daphne send you over?"

"Astoria, do I look like someone's idea of a babysitter? No. I'm the kind of person that'd feed your six year old way too much sugar and let him trash your house before letting him stay up until three in the morning watching horror films."

"So why are you here then if my sister didn't ask you to be here?"

"Relax, will you, this is not an interrogation. I'm here because I thought you might get bored by yourself." He paused for a second to think. "And because I need a bit of time away from Pansy. But if you'd rather stand by yourself then be my guest. I won't stop you." He made as if to leave but Astoria called him back.

"You're right. Sorry. Paranoid."

"You know, I heard somewhere that just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you. But for tonight I'm not one of the 'them' that's out to get you, okay?"

"Okay." Astoria gave him a quick smile before her face fell at the sight of Daphne approaching from over his shoulder. "Oh damn it. Think there's any chance I could make a quick get away?"

"Unlikely. I think she's seen you."

Astoria swore under her breath and Draco smiled. He was sure _that_ word wouldn't appear on the Daphne and Mrs Greengrass' list of acceptable language for a lady-in-training.

"Astoria! Where have you been?" Daphne asked loudly as she arrived.

"Not far." Astoria's answer was curt and Draco felt distinctly uncomfortable in the tension between the sisters.

"Just go back to the common room, Astoria. You know how much mum's gonna get at me if you don't."

"She won't even know!"

Daphne stared at her sister. "You know she will. The woman's like a human polygraph. And even if she wasn't she's got some Veritaserum she can use if she's not sure."

Astoria rolled her eyes and shot her sister one last death glare before storming off. Daphne's eyes stared on her sibling's back and she smiled in satisfaction when Astoria left the hall a few moments before Potter and Weasley.

Draco's brow furrowed as he watched Harry and his sidekick leave. He wondered where they were going. He looked across at Daphne's pleased expression.

"Bet you anything she hasn't gone back to the Common Room."

Daphne's face fell. "What?"

"She's a Slytherin. She'll just be hiding somewhere else." And with that, Draco left Daphne, weaving through the crowd and out of the doors into the Entrance Hall. A quick scan of the area told him that Potter and Weasley had disappeared. No chance of following them but...

He walked forwards and peered over the banister of the staircase where his suspicions were confirmed. Astoria sat on the third step up, her head down and the lilac dress which had told him of her presence just peeking out from the bottom of the stone staircase.

"I guess I win. As if it were ever in doubt."

Her head snapped up and she met his eyes, startled. "What?"

"I told your sister you wouldn't have gone far."

Draco gestured to the spot next to her, asking permission to join her and she nodded, consenting.

"What are you doing here?"

"Being stubborn. I'm not going back to the Common Room just because _she_ told me to."

"So you're going to sit out here for the rest of the night? That's kind of stupid."

"Well, it's not as if I'm missing much in there."

"So, you realise the ball's boring but you're not going to do what normal people do and leave early because your sister told you to leave early?"

"Sure it _sounds_ stupid when you say it like that."

Draco rolled his eyes and the corners of his lips turned upwards ever-so-slightly. "Sorry. Have you actually danced at all tonight?"

"I did earlier on. Don't think much of the music though."

"Neither do I. Pansy's desperate to dance with me. I'm thinking it might be less hassle to just dance with her once. I'll find her in a minute."

They sat in silence for a few seconds, Astoria deep in thought. Draco looked at his watch. "It's half eleven. You could probably avoid Daphne for another half an hour if you came back in." Astoria looked at him.

"Nah. I've managed to get an extra hour out of it. And there's only half an hour left. I think I've won. I'm pretty tired so I think I'll just go to bed." She stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow Draco. And thanks for talking to me."

"No problem." He stood up as well and turned to face her. Before either of them could say anything else, however, a shout came from the doors to the Great Hall.

"Astoria!" Draco and Astoria turned their heads to see a blonde girl emerging from the hall. It was Astoria's friend Amanda Monroe, a fellow Slytherin Second Year who had managed to get a date in the form of a Fourth Year. "I thought you'd left ages ago. This place is pretty boring. You want to go back to the Common Room with me?"

"Sure. Let's go." Astoria looked back at Draco. "You go back in. Pansy will be looking for you." Draco nodded.

"See you tomorrow." He turned and walked back towards the Great Hall, nodding at Amanda as he passed. He stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder.

"Astoria?"

"What?"

Draco looked around to make absolutely sure he wouldn't be overheard by anyone but Amanda and Astoria. "The dress is beautiful, by the way."

She smiled and Draco entered the hall, immediately scanning the area for Pansy. She found him first.

He felt her hand on his arm even before her angry voice reached his ears. "Where have you been?" Then, without waiting for a reply, "You've been gone ages. And you said you were only going for a drink."

He looked down at Pansy and gave her the look he knew she loved and would allow him to get away with anything. Sure enough, Pansy visibly relaxed and her grip on his arm loosened. "Okay. Well. You're back now, I guess."

"I'm back." He always ended up back here. With what was comfortable. Safe. Simple. No point in complicating life unnecessarily. It does a good enough job of that on its own.

He looked down at the top of Pansy's head with affection, although he'd never let anyone see, especially not any of the Gryffindors.

"Pansy?"

"Mmm?" she made a small noise in the back of her throat to indicate she was listening.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next sentence he would utter. "Want to dance?"

Pansy looked up into his waiting gaze. His eyebrow was raised in question. She smiled. "Okay then."

Draco led her out to the dance floor, which was already emptying as the night drew to its close, but still busy enough that they shouldn't be too noticeable. He felt he owed her this, at least. Safe, comfortable Pansy. He knew he could count on her.

They danced for a few songs and Draco watched as Pansy's happiness distinctly increased; her smiles were getting wider and her laughs were getting louder and more joyful. He found he didn't mind that much. Tonight was the calm before the storm. His father's Mark was getting clearer, Lucius had told Draco so himself in a tone half pleased, half terribly, terribly frightened. If Narcissa's predictions regarding this were correct, in a few months nobody would be thinking about the events of a stupid little dance. Things were about to be turned on their head and Draco wished he could just stay out of it all but his position in life and his family was bound to place him right in the thick of things.


	3. Are You Alright?

**Disclaimer: Neither the character of Draco Malfoy nor any othe characters you recognise from Harry Potter is mine. The chapter title is from the soundtrack to the House M.D. and belongs to Lucinda Williams.**

_It's been way too long since I updated this and I decided it was time I got back to it. For the 'Song and Dance' Challenge on the HPFC._

_Jenny._

* * *

Are You Alright?

He was fed up.

He was tired of being treated like he was a child, like he didn't understand what was happening. Being the son of Lucius Malfoy, he was probably in a better position than anyone to know what was coming.

After the death of Cedric Diggory at the end of last year, things had been busy at the Malfoy household. Lucius and Narcissa seemed suddenly unable to sit still, rushing here and there with a little excitement and a lot of fear. Like kids at Christmas, eager to get that new bike and terrified they'll open their gift to find a frilly doll's pram. The Dark Lord, returning to full power and rewarding them just like they'd always dreamed was their prize, the possibility that they would be cruelly punished the booby trap lying in wait.

Draco knew things. Possibly more than anyone else of his age knew at that moment. Even Harry Potter.

He knew The Dark Lord was back and he also knew, from eavesdropping at ajar library doors, what his plan was. Partially at least, which was still more than Potter.

Given that he knew all this, the question arose of why Snape was still treating him like a first Year, refusing to give him any information about what was going on. After his father had refused, he had gone to Snape in the hopes that he would fill him in. He hadn't.

He hated feeling like this, powerless and in the dark. His father had argued that it wouldn't be good for him to know anymore than any other student as it would begin to look suspicious.

Draco snorted. _Suspicious?!_ As if the whole student body wasn't already aware of his parents' link to The Dark Lord. Being without knowledge not only made him look stupid in the eyes of his peers, it made him feel weak, which was not a pleasant emotion, not at all.

Draco turned yet another corner, walking briskly and breathing hard, as he had been since he had left Snape's office, trying desperately to control his anger.

_Malfoys are in control of their emotions. Malfoys are in control. Don't lose your temper, don't lose your temper..._

Malfoys had to appear to be strong. They couldn't let something as weak as emotions shine through. Especially anger and frustration. That was like waving fresh meat in front of a tiger. Show weak emotions and risk being ripped to shreds. That was the lesson. That was what had been drummed into him since birth, so much so that it might have been woven into his DNA for all he knew. And that was what he had to remember now.

He halted, breaths coming so hard and so fast now in his overwhelming rage that his vision was swimming. He couldn't calm himself down, he couldn't quash the anger coursing through him. Black dots danced in front of his eyes, spreading and growing until it was all he could see. He was breathing too fast. His chest hurt, his lungs ached with the strain of it.

He turned on the spot, disoriented and distracted. He let out a scream of helpless aggravation and his hand clenched tightly into a fist. He had to get it out, before anybody could see him like this. The corridor was deserted. He pulled his arm back and let his fist fly into the nearest thing. Which, unfortunately, happened to be the hard stone wall of the corridor.

His entire arm jarred painfully as the force of the impact travelled up to his shoulder. Momentarily, the shock and pain overrode the anger and he stared at his clenched fist with something akin to surprise. Well, that was stupid of him. He might not be queuing up for the Nobel Prize but he'd never punched a wall before.

He twisted his fist around so he could look at his knuckles and, although it was anticipated, he was dismayed to see a trickle of blood running across the joints, spreading along via the tiny lines in his skin. He had managed to scrape some of the skin off his hand but, flexing the hand carefully, stretching it flat, he was grateful to find it did not seem broken.

He'd have to thank the boy down the road for teaching him to throw a punch. Or he would do, had Lucius not terrorised the Muggle family into moving away, simply because he could.

He was startled out of his examination of his hand by the clearing of a throat. He whirled around and stared at the figure standing a bit further down the corridor. Not quite as deserted as he had originally thought then.

Astoria tilted her head with one eyebrow raised.

"Bad day?" Her dry statement was accompanied by a quick glance down to the hand now hanging loosely by his side.

"You could say that."

"Did hitting the wall help?"

Draco pretended to consider, unable to resist playing along when he saw the subtle upturn of her lips.

"Not really, no."

"Didn't think it would." She stepped closer, soft amusement in her eyes giving way to concern. "Are you alright?"

He looked up at her. "Fine." He lied. Pain was another of those weak emotions Malfoys would not admit to feeling.

"Liar." Her voice was quiet but assured. "You hit the wall." She stated needlessly.

"Yes."

"It's made of stone."

"Again, yes."

She reached for his hand and her fingers closed around his wrist before he could pull it back. He let her pull his hand up to look at it, mindful all the time that they were in a very public place and he was displaying weakness. He fidgeted uncomfortably and she looked at him knowingly.

"You know only Slytherins wander around down here; it's too out of the way for anyone else. And everyone's at dinner. I've been walking and thinking for about ten minutes, I've seen nobody else down here. Relax."

"Nobody apart from me."

"I wouldn't have even come across you had I not followed the sound of your shouting." She raised an eyebrow again but didn't question him further, for which he was thankful.

Astoria returned her attention to his hand and grimaced. "Ouch. You've grazed the skin off."

"Do you make a habit of stating the obvious, or is it just for me?" He asked but his voice held none of the irritation his question seemed to imply.

"Just you." She didn't remove her gaze from his hand. "Nobody else seems to need it; they can understand by themselves."

He laughed, his previous annoyance forgotten. He looked up from his hand at the same time she did and he met her eyes. The laughter died in his throat as they simultaneously realised the intimacy of the moment. He cleared his throat and she released his wrist quickly and stepped back.

"Anyway, I have to go. Er... Pansy. She's waiting." Draco said looking past Astoria down the corridor feeling very uncomfortable.

"Yes. Me too. Promised I'd meet Amanda."

"Yes." He looked at her again briefly. She nodded, her loose brown hair falling forward over her shoulder and she immediately pushed it back so it rested against her back.

"I'll see you later." Without another word she sidestepped the motionless Malfoy and continued down the corridor. He turned to watch her and she turned the corner without once looking back.

He shook his head, dismissing the close moment as nothing more than a reaction to the intensity of his various emotions- anger, exasperation and helplessness mixed to make a slightly awkward moment as she stood close to him. That was all it was. The girl was beautiful, yes, but she was two years younger than him, and he had Pansy.

Speaking of Pansy, he should probably go and find her. She'd more than likely be waiting in the Common Room, having refused to go down to dinner with everyone else when he had announced he was going to Professor Snape's office.

He walked in the opposite direction to that in which Astoria had gone, following her example and not looking back once.


	4. Dear God

**Disclaimer: Neither the character of Draco Malfoy nor any othe characters you recognise from Harry Potter is mine. The chapter title is from the soundtrack to the House M.D. and is sung by Sarah McLachlan on the album (originally it's by XTC).**

_This has been rewritten twice now and this was the best version. It proved to be quite difficult to write a chapter entitled Dear God without referencing religion too much because I don't recall religion being mentioned in the books, and certainly not by Draco. The lyrics seem to fit Draco though. I tried to make it more of a desperation thing than religious._

_Jenny._

* * *

Dear God.

Draco sat, staring moodily into space, on the most comfortable sofa in the Common Room. He found it soothed him to be surrounded by his House colours in times such as these, where the weight of his problems rested on his chest making it difficult to breathe freely.

His fellow Slytherins left him alone; they knew better by know than to disturb a Malfoy when he was in a mood such as the one he seemed to permanently reside in these days.

He rested his chin on his open palm and glared at a passing second year who hesitated for a moment like he was about to sit down next to Draco. The boy rolled his eyes for the benefit of his friends and carried on walking.

Draco returned to his self-indulgent glum state.

Kill Dumbledore.

That was to be his mission? Draco felt another wave of nausea sweep over him and he held his breath for a moment to let it pass.

The Dark Lord had said it so callously, so off-hand, as though it were nothing. As if he were Draco's father telling him to brush his teeth before he went to bed or to wash his hands before dinner if he had just been out in the garden (not that Lucius had ever done either of those things- it was down to Draco to find out the hard way that fuzzy teeth first thing in the morning and the taste of soil on a chicken breast were life experiences best avoided wherever possible.)

Draco had stood before the Dark Lord, utterly terrified, but carefully arranging his features into a blank mask to show none of his fear.

Oh God this was hell.

Draco was sixteen years old and he shouldn't be expected to carry out a world-worn man's job. This shouldn't be allowed to happen.

_What the hell am I supposed to do now?_ Draco pushed his hands through his hair, something which he didn't do often because it connoted frustration and nobody should know if he was frustrated.

It wasn't like he could tell anybody. What would he say to his peers? His father? That he was frightened? Never an option. He couldn't talk to anyone. Then again, even if he had the choice, he'd probably choose not to. Fear was ugly and weak. Malfoys were strong.

Draco wondered when exactly all his thoughts began to start with 'Malfoys are...' but he soon came to the conclusion that there was nothing else to do in times of crisis but to refer to familial and social ideals. Without the identity of a family, people are nothing, and if you didn't have the 'right' family you would go nowhere and amount to nothing.

Luckily, Draco's own family name meant something. And Malfoys _were_ brave and strong and powerful. And Draco wanted so badly to be seen as a Malfoy by his father, his mother, the whole wizarding world. Family pride was important.

He wondered if it were the same the world over. Did everybody base so much of their personal identity on who they happened to be related to?

The Malfoys definitely had family pride, yes, the Weasleys had it in spades (poor as they were, there was no denying they were always there for each other, a highly irritating trait in Draco's opinion), hell, Draco was sure even the Longbottoms must sometimes be proud of their lot in life (difficult as that was for him to believe).

So, Draco was forced to conclude that before any decision is made, a person goes through a moment of 'would my mother approve? Would my father be proud?' It happened every time, even if only for a split second, unconsciously.

It was this conclusion that had led him to believe that people emulate their family and thus, nobody is their own person. This was terrifying and relieving all at once. Terrifying as it confirmed his lack of his own identity in lieu of copying his father's, and relieving because some of his worst actions, although he had consciously made the decision to carry them out, might not be totally his fault.

Until you've done something you've truly been ashamed of at a later date, it is impossible to comprehend just how welcome the idea that it wasn't completely your fault is. It was the age old debate of nature versus nurture and, in Draco's opinion, nurture won out every time.

He was rudely torn from this train of thought when he felt the sofa net to him sag with added weight. He turned, ready to administer a death glare to whomever it was that had dared to interrupt him, forcing them to leave.

When he saw it was her, he was not as surprised as he thought he should be. She was cropping up all over the place recently. In the last few months they had grown close, and if a word had to be used to describe what she was to him, he would have to go with 'friend' although he didn't like giving anyone that kind of influence in his life.

"What's up with you?" Astoria asked, without preamble and Draco's eyes narrowed.

"Who said anything was wrong with me?"

Astoria shrugged but said nothing.

Draco sighed. "Leave me alone Astoria."

She considered, tilting her head from side to side as though weighing up her options and scrunching up her nose. Finally she looked at him. "No. Couch is too comfy."

He turned his face away and started to ignore her, thinking over his 'Kill Dumbledore' problem. He was finding it very difficult to do so, however, when she kept fidgeting and stealing glances at him, something obviously preying on her mind. He whipped his head around to stare straight into her eyes in irritation.

"What?"

Astoria studiously examined the carpet at her feet, tracing the lines of the pattern with her eyes, changing directions where the paths crossed and following the delicate loops and swirls.

"There's something going on with you." She said simply.

He stared at her. "What makes you say that?"

"You're distant. I know."

Draco turned his gaze away and Astoria sighed, letting the subject go.

After a few moments of silence Astoria spoke again.

"Can I ask you something? Why are you and Pansy still together? You don't seem to spend time with her anymore."

The question was unexpected and for a moment Draco just stared at the top of her head as it was the only thing he could see of her. He wondered for a second how exactly he should respond. Were it anybody else daring to ask something so impertinent he would insult them, tell them to mind their business if they knew what was good for them and stalk off, never to speak to them again. But there was something about Astoria, in particular the tone of her voice when she had made the comment than nixed this option. She didn't seem to be asking out of any sort of malicious intent, instead her motives seemed to be of genuine interest, as though she were asking his favourite colour (green, for obvious reasons) or any other fact of his life.

That didn't mean he was going to give her a straight answer though.

"I've not spent much time with her because I've been busy. NEWTs preparation, you know. And I'm with her because I haven't broken up with her. Unless you end things they tend to carry on."

Astoria considered. "That's not always a bad thing. Some things are good being left alone."

"Example?"

"Recipe for sugar quills. If anyone messes with that; changes it even a little bit, I'll know and I'll hunt them down and then they'll be sorry." She pulled her eyes from the carpet to grin at him and he returned it, glad to be off the subject of Pansy.

"So why don't you end it?" Astoria asked again. Damn. Spoke too soon. There was that curiosity in her voice again. Draco sighed and gave up. She wasn't going to stop asking and she wasn't going to tell anyone the answer so he figured there was no reason not to.

"God knows. Wish he'd clue me in sometimes. Why don't you ask Him?"

"He won't return my calls. If you don't know why you're with her, maybe you shouldn't be."

Draco gave her a look. One that said she was being ridiculous and in his extra nineteen and a half months on the planet he had picked up infinitely more knowledge than her about the way of the world and the people in it, thank you very much. "Not that easy. It seems like I have very little control over what happens in my own life."

"None of us do. Society dictates what we should do and we do what it expected of us. Nobody says anything; we just go along with it because we think that's our choice. It isn't."

"Do you set aside special time to come up with these little nuggets of wisdom? Seems like every time I see you, you have some more Greengrass gems to impart."

"Only because every time I see you, you seem to need them. And no, I don't plan them. They tend to come naturally. Spur of the moment type things, you know. A lot of them don't make sense but I find if I nod wisely then people don't call me on it." Draco laughed, feeling the first lightness in his being he had experienced in weeks. He had almost forgotten his... task. Almost.

His laughter stopped too soon and he fell into his melancholy state once more.

Astoria sighed again. It was becoming quite a habit with her while she was around him.

"Fine. Look, I'm going to leave you alone. Let you think about..." she gestured vaguely with her hand, "Whatever you're thinking about."

She stood up and left without further comment and Draco watched her go, resenting her just a little but for adding to his list of problems.

Pansy. What was he going to do about Pansy? It was true that he had been spending less time with her but he was reluctant to change another thing in his life when his world was already in turmoil. Pansy was safe. Pansy would stay for now.

He ran his hand over his eyes. What was he going to do? He was lost, totally without a clue what to do and that was as scary as any nightmare he had ever had, because this was real, this was happening to him.

And he didn't know what to do. He knew what he had to do. He had to do what he was told or he would be killed, along with his family. But he didn't know how he would even begin to start. Time would run out, was already running out and he had no idea what he could do.

Deep down inside Draco knew that, if he did, by some obscure chance, succeed in the task he had been set, the guilt would be his and his alone. But it was looking less and less likely the more he thought about it (and he had done almost nothing else for the remainder of the summer after he had been set the mission, and all through the first week of term) that he would succeed, which was saying something, because he had thought the odds were laughable to begin with. If he were old enough to be a betting man he wouldn't place any amount of money on the blonde teenager to win against the wise old man.

Then again, Malfoys weren't gamblers (it was demeaning for a Malfoy to be seen roaring drunk in a casino, he had been taught) so it was probably just as well.

If Malfoys were alcoholics, he'd drink himself into a stupor to forget.

If Malfoys were cowards, he'd hire someone to do his dirty work for him (everyone knew they had the money to do it.)

If Malfoys were foolish, he'd barge into Dumbledore's office and start throwing curses and, failing that, heavy objects at the old wizard.

If Malfoy's were religious, he'd pray for help, or salvation, or deliverance from the hell he seemed to find himself in, from the situation he couldn't climb out of.

Malfoys were none of these things. What they were was what Draco had to be.

He had to be a follower, to carry out his instructions.

He had to obey.

He had to be clever, he had to think of an ingenious way to carry out the plan and not show how terrified he really was.

He had to see it through and show no outward sign of his mind's struggle.

He had to carry on. Defend his family's reputation at all costs. Even if that cost was his soul's tearing into two by taking the life of another.


	5. Got To Be More Careful

**Disclaimer: Neither the character of Draco Malfoy nor any othe characters you recognise from Harry Potter is mine. The chapter title is from the soundtrack to the House M.D. and is sung by ****Jon Cleary & the Absolute Monster Gentlemen.**

_This chapter has been the one that's been sort of half written since I started which is why it's up so soon after the last one. Hope you enjoy it._

_Jenny._

* * *

Got to be More Careful.

Draco stormed down the corridor in a towering temper, inwardly cursing himself. What a stupid, stupid mistake.

The odds of it working had been miniscule. He was sure a betting man with even a modicum of sense wouldn't have touched it with a ten foot pole. So why the hell had he taken such a huge risk? He could have blown everything. He was not yet sure that he hadn't.

He ground his teeth as he swung around the corner, sending a crowd of fourth years scrambling to get out of his way.

He briskly stepped past the crouched Hufflepuff on the ground gathering her half a dozen fallen books. But even in his distracted fury he still remembered to throw in a quick sneer at the frightened girl as he passed. After all, he reminded himself, a Malfoy's image is his life. Nobody will mess with you if they're afraid. Behind him he heard her friends, whispering words of comfort, fumbling to help her.

First the fiasco with Katie Bell (one of Gryffindor Quidditch teams star players no less, Draco reminded himself with a disgusted shake of his head) and that damn necklace and then he had to go and exacerbate the already delicate situation by (however inadvertent the action had been) poisoning Ron Weasley. The fact itself did not bother him all that much but for someone who was meant to be keeping a low profile Draco was doing an excellent job of drawing a hell of a lot of attention to himself.

Ron Weasley. For the love of God- _Ron bloody Weasley!_ One of the most high-profile students in the school apart from the obvious, possibly only, exception of Harry Potter. There would have been so much less hype about this if it had been an obscure third year Ravenclaw or somebody. But trust the Weasleys to get involved in something that was none of their business.

They were like a termite infestation- once you've got one you've got the lot and you can't turn around without seeing one creeping around. Yes, that was a fair analogy. Ron Weasley the perpetual termite. But at least with termites you could cast a spell to exterminate them. Exterminating the Weasleys would be somewhat... frowned upon, he was sure.

That didn't mean the Dark Lord wasn't going to try.

It was back to his original 'plan A' he supposed.

Draco growled low in his throat.

It was damn near impossible to imagine he would ever get those stupid cabinets ready. If he didn't know he was out of choices he would never even try it. It seemed he had no other choice. It was his last option.

He quickly adjusted his course, averting his steps from the direction of the Common Room and steering instead towards the room on the seventh floor which had proved invaluable so far. He had stored the cabinet there some months ago and had been tinkering with it between times in case his other, simpler plans had not come to anything. He'd need a lookout, of course, now that he was planning to work on it with increased regularity.

Draco turned the corner and stopped dead before hastily withdrawing again out of sight. Peering around the corner of the corridor in the most ridiculous manner, he saw Astoria with a group of friends and breathed a sigh of relief when he concluded that she had not seen him.

He leaned back against the wall, left with no other option but to wait until she had gone. It wasn't that he was avoiding her. No, that would imply cowardice and he wasn't a coward. He was simply... being prudent. It wouldn't do for him to be distracted by her right now. Not that she _was_ distracting him. He just had to be careful.

Oh he was in trouble now. This confusion of feelings couldn't have come at a worse time. Not only did he have this immense task he had to complete, but he was still technically involved with Pansy. Astoria was two entire years younger than him. She hadn't seen half the things he had.

It was too complicated right now to be having feelings for her. Pansy was fine. Pansy was the kind of girl who would be content to stay in the background while he concentrated on bigger things while Astoria... well, Astoria might sometimes require attention. She didn't seem like the type of girl who would be too reliant on him and smother him, but she was not the type who would be happily ignored.

Risking another glance around the corner he stepped out fully when there was no sign of Astoria or any of her friends.

He had made it maybe halfway down the corridor when Astoria appeared once more at the other end, eyes fixed on him. She halted and tilted her head to the side, eyes laughing at him.

"You hiding?" She smiled and he recognised the words as being the same as he spoke to her when he found her in the alcove at the Yule Ball two years previously.

Draco felt heat flood his face even while his mouth denied, perhaps a little _too_ vehemently that this had been the case. Fortunately, the corridor was mostly in shadow, so even with his pale complexion, he did not think she noticed the colour in his cheeks.

"No! Definitely not. What would I be hiding for? I practically _own _this school."

She rolled her eyes, and he knew that she did not believe him. That was fair, he thought, he wouldn't have believed him either. He was thankful, however when she did not press the subject.

"Right."

There was an awkward silence in which Astoria studied Draco carefully and he studied the wall over her head.

"I saw Pansy earlier."

"Did you?" He heard himself speak the words and was glad they sounded thoroughly uninterested.

"Mmm." She made a soft noise of confirmation. "She was looking for you. Seemed upset that she hadn't seen you for a while."

"How do you know she hasn't seen me for a while? I could have just come from being with her for all you know." Great, that sounded too defensive.

"She told me she hadn't seen you in a while. Seemed to think I had something to do with it."

"What did you tell her?"

"Nothing. There was nothing to say. I threatened to hex her unless she left me to eat my breakfast."

Draco nodded. Astoria looked behind her down the corridor.

"As scintillating as it is standing here and talking at you while you respond only rudimentarily, I have to go and find Daphne. Mother sent a letter this morning and I want to read it. Not that I need to. I already know what will be in there. 'Don't do this, Tori. Stay away from that, Tori.'" As she mocked her mother's warnings, Astoria injected the nickname with derision and Draco smirked when he realised just how much it irritated her. She took a breath before continuing speaking. "You know- all that stuff which she doesn't think I'm clever enough to work out by myself."

"Very protective, your mother." Once again the words of two years previously were repeated. Astoria gave no sign of having recognised this and Draco realised that she would have no way of knowing Daphne had spoken them or of the hidden envy barely visible in her eyes when she had.

"Not so much protective as bloody annoying." Astoria rolled her eyes.

"Is there a reason she's that way with you and not Daphne?"

"It... doesn't matter."

"Your sister isn't happy about it." Draco pressed.

Astoria shook her dark hair out of her face and Draco was momentarily distracted by the movement.

"No she wouldn't be." Her eyes were rueful as she turned away. "I'll see you Draco."

He watched her go silently, cursing himself internally, not only for causing her visible pain, but for adding to his own list of problems. He had enough to worry about.

He shook himself briefly and carried on his way towards the seventh floor where he would find the room opposite the tapestry of that mad old wizard training trolls in tutus to dance badly.

He had no idea how to do it but he would fix that cabinet. He couldn't afford another slip-up like after so many recently. Great care was needed.

When he came to the junction at the end of the corridor he glanced in the direction Astoria had taken before turning and heading the other way. He would have to be careful when it came to _her_ too.


	6. Walter Reed

**Disclaimer: Neither the character of Draco Malfoy nor any othe characters you recognise from Harry Potter is mine. The chapter title is from the soundtrack to the House M.D. and is sung by ****Michael Penn.**

_Hope you enjoy this chapter. It's set in Draco's sixth year while he's working on the cabinet and is getting frustrated by the task and the way his life seems beyond his control at that moment._

_Jenny._

* * *

Walter Reed.

Draco stood in the shade of the tree watching, although he'd never admit it, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley walking hand in hand around the lake.

He could almost laugh at the cliché nature of the scene before him and the events that led up to it. Girl likes boy, boy's too high and mighty to look at her, girl moves on, boy realises he likes her, boy and girl get together Cinderella style, boy and girl live happily ever after. Draco rolled his eyes, trying to deny there was anything even approaching jealousy in the mixture of feelings swirling in the pit of his stomach at the sight.

As much as he tried to think otherwise, however, he knew that to have someone look at him the way the Weasley girl looked at Potter would be great, but it would most likely never happen.

His thoughts immediately jumped to Astoria but he pushed them away as soon as they occurred. He couldn't be thinking about her, even though by now he had accepted that he and Pansy were over. Pansy herself hadn't taken it too well when he had told her a few days previously.

Still, even though he was technically available to pursue a relationship with Astoria, it was probably not the wisest thing to do while he still had the seemingly (and he almost hoped it was- in his heart he didn't really want to be a killer) insurmountable task of murdering Albus Dumbledore. He had to focus if he wanted to have any chance of coming out of this alive, and that meant Astoria would forever be unattainable. If he failed, he would die, and obviously wouldn't be able to be with Astoria Greengrass. If he succeeded, he would have to go into hiding and become an official Death Eater, and then he wouldn't be able to be with her either. She had never shown any interest in joining the Dark Lord, and was too headstrong to allow herself to be pulled into that lifestyle.

So any relationship that allowed a woman to be to him what the Weasley girl was to Potter, or vice-versa was unachievable. He kicked a stone on the ground angrily and watched it skip across the ground and sink into the lake. He didn't like to think of something being out of his reach. As a Malfoy, he had always been given what he wanted while growing up, even without asking.

But the thought that no-one's eyes would ever shine with laughter for him nor fall closed in blissful pleasure at his feather-light touch on their hand was more terrifying than he wanted to admit to even himself. Standing under that tree, he realised that no-one would ever rush to meet him after only a few days apart. No-one's voice would soften as they uttered his name.

While those ideas were scary, they also helped make what he had to do easier. Not better just... easier. After all, he thought, when you knew there was no-one to pull you off the path of destruction into their waiting, all-forgiving arms, it's easier to start down that path. There was nobody to hang around for.

Draco began walking back towards the castle, kicking any stones, sticks, or flowers that got into his way.

There was nobody to hang around for. There was, therefore, no reason to delay the inevitable. And it was inevitable. It always had been, he supposed. Ever since he was born it had been written in the stars, even if he absolutely, undeniably, categorically did not believe in all that 'fate' rubbish that Trelawney spouted.

He was firmly of the opinion that whatever came out of Trelawney's mouth was a mixture of vague statements that could apply to anything, and delusional self-importance. The only reason he put up with Divination is because it was marginally better than some of the other subjects on offer. Muggle Studies? He shuddered at the thought before letting out a small humourless laugh. There's no way that was an option. Lucius would have thrown a fit. Or something heavy at Draco. Possibly both.

Despite not believing in destiny even a little bit, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that this... this _thing_ blocking the road to the rest of his life was placed there years ago. There was no way around it. Like everything else the only way to face it is head on.

He so was so absorbed in his thoughts, it was a shock to realise he was already at the seventh floor and the room which concealed the Vanishing Cabinet.

He looked both ways, carefully checking the corridor for anybody who might be trying to hide, before walking past the stretch of wall three times and entering the room.

As always when he entered, he did so with his eyes closed. He held them that way for a moment, hoping that when he opened them he would have made more progress in the cabinet's completion than he remembered or that in his absence it would have fixed itself (stranger things had happened in Hogwarts, he was sure.)

And as always when he opened them, he felt that sickening feeling in his stomach akin to panic when he realised that neither of these things had happened, in fact, he seemed to have made less progress than he remembered.

He sighed heavily and tried to push down the rising tide of panic rising up inside of him. He couldn't allow himself to think that he would _never_ finish the cabinet. He just had to keep trying. He settled himself down to working, and did so steadily for the next couple of hours, frustration rising with every new problem he encountered.

When, two hours or so after he originally began, he found yet another malfunction within the cabinet, he screamed in anger and threw himself across the room, trying to get as far away from the accursed thing as was physically possible while still staying within the parameters of the room. As this was a magical room, it turned out he could get quite a long way away, as the room kept expanding to accommodate his wishes. He wandered around the room, looking around at the curious assortment of objects and examining a few that particularly caught his interest.

When at last he thought his anger had abated enough for him to be able to be able to work on the cabinet with a clear head once more, he returned to the site where he had left it. As soon as it came into view, however, his frustration ignited.

The futileness of what he had been doing, working and working without end and to no rewarding result, the unfairness of being asked to do such a thing in the first place, his rage at his parents for not keeping him safe from this, his anger at Potter and the Weasley girl for having what he couldn't, Pansy's insistences of dependence, Astoria's inaccessibility, everything mixed together and exploded. _He_ exploded.

He picked up the nearest item, which happened to be a small marble statue of some Greek god or other, and hurled it with all his strength towards the cabinet. It made a sizeable dent in the door, but even with this physical damage to the awful thing, his anger did not wane.

Item after item of what could only be described collectively as junk, flew through the air and contacted the cabinet with a series of satisfying bumps and thuds, each item leaving its own mark on the body of the cupboard. A chipped door, a broken handle, a splintered leg.

It was only when a heavy tome, a register of all the wizards who existed in Britain between the years 1224 and 1720, crashed clean through the left door that the noise of cracking wood brought him back to his senses.

He was breathing heavily through his nose as he glared at his destruction and felt the first onset of remorse. What had he just done? He had potentially destroyed months of careful work on a fit of childish petulance.

He carefully approached the cabinet and inspected it inch by inch. It looked as though the damage was only superficial. The hole in the door would need to be fixed, but hopefully the magical wards on the cabinet preventing tampering would not prevent him from doing surface repairs by magic. Overall, it didn't look like he had set himself back too much with his little tantrum and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe for now.

He turned away from the cabinet, not trusting himself to look at it without hitting it. He couldn't take out his anger on it- the lives of himself and his family depended upon him getting the thing to do what it was designed to do.

He tried all the old tricks- holding his breath, counting backwards from ten, imagining himself in a happy place (although that only caused him more confusion and frustration as any place he imagined, a certain dark-haired girl two years his junior kept cropping up), but nothing worked. He was simply unable to calm himself down and so he decided it would not be beneficial to work on the cabinet any more at that moment.

He left the room, careful to ensure that nobody was in the corridor at the time of his departure to witness Draco Malfoy walking out of what had been a solid wall. He knew Potter and his friends knew about the room, after all they had used it for their little vigilante justice team last year, but he didn't know who else knew about it. It couldn't hurt to be a little more careful.

It might just save his life.


	7. Teardrop

**Disclaimer: Neither the character of Draco Malfoy nor any other characters you recognise from Harry Potter is mine. The chapter title is from the soundtrack to the House M.D. and is performed by Massive Attack.**

_This chapter is set in Draco's sixth year when Harry finds him in the bathroom and the following events._

_Jenny._

--

Teardrop.

"Draco?" He vaguely registered Astoria's concerned tone coming from his left as he strode past her, not looking at her and not slowing his pace. He hadn't left the room on the seventh floor with any particular destination in mind but he now recognised the path his feet were taking him on. He had been there a lot in the last few weeks. It was good to have someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't talk back or tell anyone else he had been there.

He burst into the empty girl's bathroom panting and leant heavily on the sink, hands bracing him on either side. Everything was so messed up. He would never be able to do this.

He heard Myrtle voicing her worry from by the cubicles but he couldn't deal with that right now. He just needed... he didn't know what he needed. He needed to get out. He needed it all to go away.

He was going to die. He and his whole family would be killed because Draco couldn't do the impossible.

His hands clenched around the stone edges of the sink and he brought his head up to stare into his own haunted eyes gazing back at him. Tears of anger, frustration, fear and hopelessness brimmed at the edges, threatening to spill over and pour down his cheeks.

Myrtle floated a little closer. "Draco?" Her tone, usually so excited about seeing him, was filled with anxiety.

He ignored her and took a deep, shaky breath, desperately trying to contain the tears in his eyes.

"Draco." She said again. "What is it?"

He swallowed, determined not to cry, but lost the fight and a tear leaked out of his eye. Myrtle's jumped in at the sight.

"Draco? Oh, Draco don't. It will be alright." The intent of her words was to sooth, but as she had no idea what she was trying to sooth, it didn't help Draco in the slightest. But she was there, and willing to listen, and once he had started, he couldn't stop the tears falling out of his eyes.

Leaning over the sink, he could just about see, through his blurry vision, teardrops dropping into the empty basin, gathering in small puddles as others joined them. Tears fell thick and fast as his own voice burst out of him in breathless sobs. Nonsense words, babbling more than anything, the tears and harshness of his breath making him difficult to understand, he knew. But he didn't want her to know what was going on so he made no effort to make himself clearer, allowing convoluted thought processes and pitiful self-deprecating complaints to pour from his lips.

Myrtle's voice continued to murmur at him from by the cubicles. "Don't. Tell me what's wrong... I can help you."

Draco snorted through his tears, not caring that it might hurt her. Of course she couldn't help him. No one could. He was beyond help.

"I can't do it... I can't... it won't work... and unless I do it soon he says he'll kill me." His voice continued to spill from his lips uncensored. He had thought that this would be what he wanted. Maybe not at first, but he thought he would grow to want to be a Death Eater, now the idea made him sick. He didn't want this. It was a mistake. He wanted a way out but there was no way. He was used to getting what he wanted, no matter how spoiled it sounded.

The image of Astoria's face filled his mind and his cries increased in strength. It wasn't fair. He wanted to be with her and he couldn't. He wanted to save himself and his family and he couldn't. He wanted a way out where there was none.

He swallowed and looked up... and his stomach plummeted. In the mirror above the sink he could see Harry Potter standing near the entrance to the bathroom, mouth hanging open in shock at seeing his enemy cry.

The initial fear he felt at this idea of Potter seeing him cry was almost instantly overtaken by anger. How dare Potter interfere? What the hell was he doing here anyway?

He gritted his teeth and spun around, rage thundering through him as he pulled his wand out. He hurled a hex at Potter almost instinctively. His mind didn't even register fully what it was he was sending, only that it would be painful. It was thrown quickly, and his hand was shaking with anger, so it was little wonder that it missed its mark by several feet.

Potter responded straight away but Draco blocked it, preparing to send something straight back at the one who had caused him such embarrassment for walking in on him being so weak. Myrtle was yelling somewhere far away but a loud rushing filled Draco's ears, causing her voice to fade almost to nothing.

Draco's anger was making his aim poor and he felt a frisson of frustration when he missed yet again, and the bathroom bin behind Potter exploded in a shower of tissue paper. At least Potter's aim seemed to be just as bad. His spell hit the toilet near where Myrtle stood shrieking as loud as she could.

Fury now consumed Draco, fuelled by humiliation and helplessness, and he could barely see straight. He just wanted to hurt, hurt another as much as he himself was hurting. He heard his voice crying out without consulting his brain.

"Cruci..."

But he never finished the spell, something which he would later be grateful for, he was sure but there was no time to think about that as Potter bellowed a strange spell, one which he had never heard before.

"Sectumsempra!"

_What? What the hell...?_

There was no more time to wonder what that spell did, as he was made all to horrifyingly aware of its purpose as blood filled his eyes, running down his face as he felt a white hot knife slice clean across it. A similar sensation also hit his chest and his left hand reached up, his right still clutching the strip of wood which held so much power, and grabbed the front of his robes.

Wet. His hand was wet, and when he pulled it away, blinking blood from his vision, he could see that it was also bloody.

Draco stumbled backwards, shaken to the core as blood poured out of him. Even through his fear and disbelief, he still had time to feel shock at the fact that Potter knew a spell that was so obviously dark. He'd never even heard of it. What was it? Sectemsupra? Setsumepra? He couldn't remember and his vision, cleared of the blood through rapid blinking, grew hazy as he fell backwards onto the floor, wand falling from his slackened grip.

Potter was beside him, denying his actions with a tone of pure disbelief. Given the choice, Potter was the last person he'd want beside him as he lay bleeding but he was, on a level he would never admit to out loud, glad that he wasn't alone.

Suddenly, through the swirl of shock, fear and immense pain, Myrtle's ear-splitting scream ripped through the air.

"MURDER!"

_Am I dying? _The thought didn't frighten him as much as he thought it should.

"MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"

Next thing he knew, an arm was supporting his back while blood was being wiped from his face. Lifted to his feet, he was supported out of the bathroom. It was only when he heard the person's voice barking at Potter to stay put that he realised it was Snape and he felt another stab of anger, this time directed at the man beside him. When he had wanted information months ago Snape had steadfastly refused to help but recently he had been pestering Draco to tell him what he was doing.

His mind recoiled at the touch of his Head of House even while his traitorous weakened body leaned further into the support Snape offered.

Snape was muttering something Draco couldn't make out. Somehow he knew he wasn't supposed to. So he tried harder. Something about a Potter and a book. Before he could even begin to try and work out was meant by that, he heard another voice close enough to his ear to make him draw back from the volume.

"Draco!" Astoria was by his side, and although his face was downturned, and he couldn't see her, she sounded confused and more than a little scared.

"What happened?" She demanded of Snape, who bristled.

"Miss Greengrass, that is none of your business. And you will address me as 'Professor.'"

Astoria didn't reply to this, but Draco heard her footsteps behind them all the way to the Hospital Wing.

Snape deposited him on a vacant bed, Astoria running for Madam Pomfrey, returning within seconds with the matron in tow. She hurried to his side as Snape drew back, muttering something to the nurse about curses and deep gashes. Snape didn't hang around. Draco heard his swift footsteps leaving the ward as Madam Pomfrey leaned over him, dabbing at his face and instructing Astoria to go and fetch some dittany from the cupboard.

When she left, Madam Pomfrey drew the curtains around his bed shut with a rustling of material. She unbuttoned the front of his robes and his shirt drawing in an abrupt breath through her teeth when she saw the deep cuts on his chest. She muttered soothingly, although the meaning of the words didn't permeate the fog that had descended upon him.

He heard the sound of the curtain being pulled back, followed immediately by a horrified gasp.

"Miss Greengrass, wait outside please."

"What's wrong with him? What the hell happened?"

"Outside Miss Greengrass."

"What-"

"Astoria," the nurse switched tacks, talking gently to the girl and, squinting, Draco could see the shape of the nurse firmly grasping Astoria by the arm and leading her to stand behind the curtain. "Just wait out here dear. I will treat the cuts and you can come back to be with your boyfriend in a few minutes."

"He's not my-"

But Madam Pomfrey was not listening. She had returned to Draco's side, leaving Astoria outside the cubicle.

Draco hissed as she applied dittany to the gashes and the stinging sensation burned through his body.

"Sorry dear, I know it's painful."

_Do you? Do you really?_ He wanted to ask her. _Then why the hell are you still doing it you sadistic-_

"Ouch!" He said as she unexpectedly moved onto his face, rubbing the herb along his forehead. He had wanted to say something stronger but his mouth, in its eagerness, hadn't wanted to wait for his still fairly foggy brain to catch up.

She apologise again and doggedly carried on her treatment while he tried not to flinch. Soon she had finished and, after applying some thick orange healing cream to his cuts, she left and Astoria entered. She took the seat next to the bed and her eyes ran over his face and the blanket under which she knew similar cuts on his chest were concealed.

"Are you alright?" She asked. Draco nodded.

"Thanks for following me here."

"I think that might be the first time in history anybody's ever thanked me for doing something resembling stalking."

"It's not stalking unless you're saving my scrap pieces of parchment."

"Damn. Guess I'll have to throw those out now. Shame. I almost had enough to make a collage of your head." She said grinning and Draco laughed, before stopping with a grunt when it made his chest hurt. Astoria sobered.

"Sorry." She hesitated before posing her next question. "Who did this to you?"

"Why? What are you gonna do? Send your mates round?

"No. Most of my friends are the same stature as Amanda. Do you think Amanda would be able to do anything? So, no. I won't be sending anyone round. But who was it?"

"I'll sort it out."

"Why? Are you gonna send _your_ mates round?" She stopped for a moment, thinking. "Actually, Crabbe and Goyle..." she trailed off.

"I'm not going to send them round."

"They'd get lost?"

"They're not idiots Astoria."

"No. Sorry." She said quietly and Draco softened, although he'd never let anyone else know that the sight of a pretty girl looking upset could have such an effect on him.

"I just don't want them fighting any fights for me. Maybe I've let them in the past but... not anymore."

Astoria nodded and fell into silence. Draco studied her for a moment, debating whether or not he should ask her something that had been bothering him about her before deciding to ask her outright.

"Are you going to tell me then?"

"Depends. What are you talking about?"

"Are you going to tell me why is your mother so protective? Why doesn't Daphne like it?"

"Why would it matter to you?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm interested."

Astoria leaned forwards with her elbows resting on her knees. She stared at him intensely, evidently trying to judge his reasons for asking. Apparently she didn't see anything malicious in his eyes and she leaned back and inhaled deeply.

"I'm the baby."

Draco was taken aback. "That's it?"

"More or less."

He raised an eyebrow and waited.

"There was another child between me and Daphne. A boy. He died before I was born."

"Okay." Draco was not sure what else he could say. "How does that lead on to your mother being so overprotective of you?"

"I'm getting to that. Like I was saying, he died. And then when I was born, my parents weren't expecting me. They didn't want to lose another baby. It wasn't fair on Daphne. My mother treated me like I was made of glass but neither of them were as scared for her. I guess because she was older, they thought she wasn't in as much danger because she could recognise some things as dangerous that I couldn't when I was younger. Mother's never got out of the mindset that I can't look after myself but she think Daphne can so she pays her less attention. They always have. I don't think she knows she's doing it but Daphne notices."

Draco was silent taking this all in. He hadn't expected anything like that but he could see how difficult and sensitive the situation truly was. He stared at her as his brain processed this information.

"Don't tell Daphne I told you." Astoria said, staring right back at him.

"No. I won't, don't worry." He smiled tentatively at her, still not entirely sure how he should react. "Thanks for telling me though."

"It's okay. We're friends, right?"

It was a good thing she was looking down at the floor now, rubbing the toe of her shoe up and down one of the cracks between tiles and so did not see his face fall slightly.

"Friends. Yes."

She might not have seen his face, but he was almost certain he saw her small smile falter for a second. When she looked back up at him, however, it was firmly in place once more.

"Look, I'd better go. I was supposed to meet someone a little while ago."

Draco felt an irrepressible, unreasonable stab of jealousy. After all, it wasn't like he had any claim over her. "Oh? Who?" He tried to make his tone light-hearted, he really did, but it still managed to contain a hint of bitterness. Fortunately, it seemed Astoria didn't notice.

"Just a friend. It doesn't matter." She stood. "I'll see you later." She hesitated for a moment before bending over him and kissing him quickly on the cheek. She left without a word or a backwards glance.

Pain in his chest and face forgotten Draco slumped back onto his pillows and covered his eyes with his hands, wondering when exactly things got so complicated. When he was younger, everything seemed easy in his little ad-hoc world. Things worked out the way he wanted without ever having to try too hard. He supposed it was a benefit of being born with money. But now things had spiralled rapidly out of control and his life had become more dangerous than he would ever have believed possible even two years ago. He had lost too much control already in regards to what went on in his life. He needed to keep away from her; he needed to keep her from this.

He uncovered his eyes and sat up, adjusting the pillows to support his back and he looked around the room.

Draco was not his father. He didn't want a subservient little thing to stand in the background and agree with him. It was too boring. Astoria could stand up for herself; hold her own in a fight. She would be... He sighed, breaking off that thought before it could get too far. No point dwelling on it. His life was too complicated without throwing a girl into the mix.

He winced as he shifted and a dull pain throbbed in his chest. It seemed like the cream was wearing off and he looked around for Madam Pomfrey. Catching her eye through the glass of her office, she exited and came to fuss over him, reapplying the cream and admonishing him (rather unfairly, in Draco's view) for allowing himself to be cursed.

He let the words of the witch wash over him as his eyes drifted to the door through which Astoria had left to meet her friend, before forcing himself to look away. His fascination (that's all it was, he told himself. Nothing more) with the girl had to stop. For both their sakes.


	8. Good Man

**Disclaimer: Neither the character of Draco Malfoy nor any of the other characters you recognise from Harry Potter is mine. The chapter title is from the soundtrack to the House M.D. and is sung by ****Josh Ritter.**

_I know it's been a long time, but here's the next chapter. There will be four more chapters to this story and I've got them kind of planned out. There's going to be quite a jump in time between this chapter and the next because of how the song titles fit the story._

_Jenny._

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Good Man.

"Avada Kedavra!" Snape cried.

And Dumbledore tumbled backwards so easily, as though he were completely weightless, over the wall of the tower and disappeared from view. But... he had seemed so indestructible. He couldn't be...

Numb. Draco was numb. What other word could he use after he had just seen his headmaster murdered?

It was all wrong. He fought the inappropriate impulse to start laughing in hysterical panic. But the instinct died almost as soon as it had been born. Nothing about this was funny. Nothing.

Every cell in his body screamed in disbelief and his body refused to move on its own, no matter how he was being urged to do so. In the end Snape grabbed him by the back of the neck and forced him down the stairs ahead of himself. From the grip Snape had on his neck, Draco knew it would cause him a great deal of pain if he resisted, but his body, motionless in shock, wouldn't be able to resist if he wanted to.

His skin crawled at the idea that the man touching him was a murderer. Draco had seen him do it. His feet stumbled on the steps in the dark as the party headed down the flight of stairs. The noise of the battle increased as they sped down the steps until they burst into the battle raging in the hallway below.

He was pushed through the battle, looking neither left nor right despite the cacophony of shouts and explosions in the hallway pounding forcefully into his eardrums. His brain was still not over the shock it had just received and he couldn't quite connect with the world around him just yet.

Cool air hit his face like a bucket of water waking him from his trance. The sensation was like a bucket of ice-cold water waking him from a deep sleep, an experience he had once been unfortunate enough to have when he was eight and his mother had sent him on a short trip with some other children from the area, not so much to get Draco to bond, but to make the family seem less worthy of suspicion. It had backfired rather spectacularly, as when Draco had awoken at three in the morning, spluttering and coughing in surprise which quickly gave way to anger, and discovered who exactly had perpetrated the deed, Timothy Maxwell had swiftly lost his eyebrows. At that age, of course, Draco had not possessed a wand, but the fierce emotion raging through his veins was uncontrollable and, much to the other boy's intense fear, it had taken only seconds for his eyebrows to go up in flames. He hadn't been hurt beyond that, and nobody could prove that Draco had been involved, especially as Timothy himself had to admit that Draco had not even come near him. Still, it was enough that they neighbourhood grew more, not less, suspicious of the peculiar Malfoys and their aloof seclusion.

Disbelief gave way to raw panic as he realised what had just happened. He had thought of almost nothing else for months, but he had somehow neglected to consider life after Dumbledore was dead. The task of killing him had been like a block Draco couldn't see past, but now that block was gone and he was horrified at what lay behind. It wasn't going to be okay. He couldn't do it and Snape had to step in. The Dark Lord would know that soon enough and Draco's whole family would be in even more danger. The death of the old headmaster, rather than subdue those who fought against the Dark Lord, was likely to increase the fervour of their fight, with Dumbledore as their greatest martyr.

He and Snape sprinted across the grass, brightly coloured lights flying past them as various people from the castle- there was no time to turn and see who, and it didn't really matter either- tried and failed to stop their escape.

The simple truth was that Albus Dumbledore had been a good man.

Draco had been taught from an early age that Dumbledore had been an old fool, just on this side of senile. Lucius had asserted on countless occasions that Dumbledore was the worst thing that had ever happened to Hogwarts and, growing up with such vehement statements, a young and impressionable Draco had never doubted it. But there had never been any denying in the Malfoy household that Dumbledore had been a good man. What that made the Malfoy family was clear but Draco didn't want to think about that.

The moment Draco's heel was outside the grounds, he felt the uncomfortable sensation of disapparation wash over him and heard the crack of atoms parting as his body was there one minute and gone the next.

They hit the ground still running; the dizzying sensation arising from apparition not causing their pace to falter for even a second, although Draco's knees buckled slightly under the force of hitting the ground. Snape seized him around the elbow, dragging him upright once more as they sprinted through the gates and up the path to the Malfoy Manor. They would be safe once they were inside; Lucius had, in his anti-Muggle vendetta and his distrust of many other magical people, long since made the old house unplottable.

As they raced up the long, wide driveway, virtually obsolete as most of the places the Malfoys went, they went by broom or apparition and the expensive car hardly ever left the garage, Draco suddenly remembered something else about his time atop the astronomy tower.

Two brooms.

There had been two broomsticks on top of the tower and for a second, just for a second, Draco had been certain.

Dumbledore had distracted him with the ease of a man who had had many years experience dealing with confused young witches and wizards and had driven the idea clean out of Draco's head. But he had been absolutely sure. Thinking about it now, he still was. Two brooms- Potter had to have been there. Hiding. Maybe that meant that he knew. Maybe Potter understood that Draco wouldn't have done it; seen the moment he had begun to lower his wand. Maybe he realised- oh and how Draco hoped _someone _realised – that Draco wasn't a bad man when push came to shove.

That didn't mean he was a good person. Not yet. That would take some work. But he wasn't a bad man.

Draco was pushed through the door and almost fell the second Snape released his elbow. He felt so _weak._ His body was not co-operating at all and he could practically feel the waves of disgust emanating from the crowd around him. He righted himself before he hit the ground and stood straight, eyes downcast to the floor.

Portraits lining the hallway whispered to each other, the sound like wind through the trees. Most of what was being said was undistinguishable but there were some that didn't even bother to keep their voices down.

"He didn't do it. My brother's portrait hangs in Hogwarts. He told me so." He spoke loudly for the benefit of every ear in the hallway, painted or otherwise. "Lucius will be disappointed. He's spoken of nothing but pride for the boy for months. I knew it was a mistake trusting this... _child_ to be of any use to the Dark Lord's purpose." Draco didn't look up to see which of his long dead relatives was speaking.

"Your opinion does not matter." Snape said coldly. "The Dark Lord _himself_ entrusted Draco with this task."

"And look how well the boy did," the male voice sneered derisively. "The Dark Lord will not be pleased with you Severus. Stepping in, depriving the boy of his job because he was too weak to see it through."

"I had my own promises to keep." Snape said quietly. "It is done now. Do the means make any difference to the outcome?"

There was the sound of a door opening and slamming into a wall with some force from Draco's left and he heard footsteps running towards them. He stared at the patterned carpet on the floor of the entrance hall, not needing to look up to know who it was sprinting towards them with little regard to decorum in the face of her son's possible injury. Narcissa ran to Draco's side, grasped his chin in her hand and, with surprising strength, forced his face up so she could look at it.

Draco was not surprised that she was still in the Manor. As much as Narcissa believed in the cause, Lucius did not believe a battle was an appropriate place for his wife. She had to remain dignified, a lady, and uphold their image more than anything. She must be seen as pristine; a prize he had won so that others would envy them their lifestyle.

Draco pulled away from his mother's grasp with a curt, "I'm fine mother. It's over now."

He walked away from the crowd assembled in the entrance hall, walking without really seeing where he was going as his thoughts raged inside of his mind. The shock, but not the horror, of what he had seen was beginning to wear off.

There was no changing what had happened. Dumbledore was dead and the entire Wizarding World would be in an uproar the moment it was discovered. Surely those closest to Potter would already know by now; Draco was sure he had been there and would have seen and heard everything that had happened.

Draco had failed. He hadn't killed the headmaster himself and he and his family would surely pay for that. The Dark Lord would not let the fact that the task had been completed detract from his displeasure that Draco had disobeyed his orders. Draco swallowed. He would be lucky not to be killed for this. He could only hope that the Dark Lord was satisfied enough with Dumbledore's death to allow Draco and his family to escape with their lives. They would be tortured though, and Draco more than his parents. That was for certain.

He turned to the left at the end of the corridor he was walking along and continued blindly along his course, falling deeper into his despair. If he had thought everything he wanted was unattainable before, it certainly was now. He would never return to Hogwarts, he could never hope to be more than a mindless follower of a sadistic killer, and he would probably never see the girl he had to admit he was falling in love with again.

His steps had led him to one of the rooms in the back of the house. It was out of the way and usually one of the last places people would look for someone. Which of course must have been why his subconscious chose this place for him to be alone.

He slumped onto the sofa in the corner of the room and covered his eyes with his hands. He pressed the heels of his hands hard into his eyes and took several deep breaths to calm his racing heart and slow his thoughts down enough to make sense of them.

His mind settled on Astoria. How he wished he could have spoken to her before... No. What would he have said? He couldn't have told her what was going on. Then she would have been in danger too and he knew he cared about her ('_You care about her too much'_, a voice, which sounded suspiciously like Lucius, taunted in his head) enough for him to mentally recoil from the idea of dragging her into the mess that was his world.

Before he had left Hogwarts, they had become closer; talking often and sometimes he could swear that she was flirting with him. As soon as his mind recognised the signs, however, he always came up with an excuse to flee the conversation as soon as possible to avoid entangling himself with her more than he already was.

He moved his hands from his eyes and rested his head against the back of the sofa, his mind leaving Astoria when she became dangerous ground, like he had done physically so many times over the last few months. But there was only one other place for his thoughts to go, and being back on top of the Astronomy Tower with his headmaster was no less tormenting than thoughts of Astoria Greengrass.

He was surprised, and ashamed at the relief he felt at the sound, when another voice disrupted his thoughts.

"What am I doing here?"

He looked over at the door, although he needed no help to realise whose voice it was. Astoria stood, uncharacteristically hesitant, with one hand resting on the door jamb and one foot still in the hallway outside. Even the little bit of happiness that managed to permeate his overwhelming depression did not distract himself from his surprise at seeing her.

"Shouldn't that be my question?"

"Want me to leave?"

Draco deliberated. He didn't want her to be around him when he was in this mood and could so easily say something that would be regretted later on, but he was selfish enough to wish for her company.

"No." He moved over on the sofa. "Sit down."

She slowly walked across the room, as if he were a cornered animal who would be intimidated by any sudden movement. He waited as she settled herself next to him in silence.

"So... what _are_ you doing here?" He asked finally, when the awkwardness became too hard to bear.

"Your mother suggested we come here for a few days. Told my mother it was the safest place for me and Daphne. She's off flirting with... well it was the gardener but I think he's gone now so whoever she can find I should think."

"Mother suggested you come here?"

Astoria seemed offended by his question. "I can leave if you want."

"No," Draco said, too quickly. "No, don't do that." Internally he was at war. He didn't want her to find out what he had happened, and his part in it, but he found that around her the horrors of the last hour were blurred around the edges. Not gone, they'd never be gone, but the enormity of what had happened seemed distant. He had the feeling that it would only last as long as she was there to talk to.

She stared at him in silence for a moment. "Alright." She looked around the room, her eyes never settling on anything long enough for Draco to believe she was really taking anything in. Her deep breaths and drumming fingers made him suspect she had something else she wanted to say. He only had to wait until...

"Don't think I don't know what the arrival of all those Death Eaters here tonight means. Dumbledore's dead." She carried on string unseeingly into space. "I liked him. Maybe that's not a very Slytherin sentiment but he was always nice to me. He was a good man."

Draco said nothing. She was right, of course.

"I knew that You-Know-Who must have been planning to get kill Dumbledore. I just never thought he would manage it. Was he there tonight?" She looked over at him.

"No."

"So who...?"

"Snape." He hoped she wouldn't ask for any more information. Remembering was making him feel sick.

"Are you going to tell me why you arrived with Professor Snape tonight?"

Draco flinched internally as the thought of having to explain to her his role in all of this burned through his body. She would be appalled when she learned that he had been planning, for months now, the best way to take a man's life. He hadn't gone through with it, but that didn't detract from the fact that he had been planning to. It was the cardinal rule; Do Not Kill. To break that rule was the gravest of all sins, the worst thing a person could do. He had planned to make himself a murderer, tearing his own soul in two with the extinguishing of another's.

"It was to be my mission." Out of the corner of his eye he saw her eyes widen. "He was going to kill my family unless I did it. You can't imagine how much has changed in a year. A year ago, I was happy, eager to prove myself but now... I couldn't do it Astoria. I had my wand, and he didn't, and it was just me and Dumbledore," _and Potter,_ Draco added internally, "but I couldn't."

Astoria nodded. "I wouldn't have thought you did. I've seen you change over the last few months." She lifted her hands from her lap, but then seemed unsure of what to do with them and replaced them after a few seconds. She didn't say anything else and Draco shifted in the uncomfortable silence. Why hadn't she left yet?

"So what's going to happen now?" Even in his despair, Draco was impressed at the level tone of her voice. She was upset, but holding herself together well. Her hands were restless in her lap, the nails of her left hand scratching at the wrist of her right in an unconscious gesture that was sure to make her bleed if she didn't stop soon. He placed his hand atop hers to halt to motion. She was still waiting for his answer.

"I don't know. The Dark Lord," Draco swallowed before continuing. "The Dark Lord will be very unhappy. My family is in danger. Hogwarts is in trouble. Professor Dumbledore's death can only speed up the battle that will decide the future once and for all." _And you should probably get away from me before you can get too involved in this._

Astoria was silent again, and Draco guessed her mind was hundreds of miles away, at a school in Scotland, sharing grief with other students who were even now finding out about the loss of their beloved headmaster. He suddenly noticed his hand was still on top of hers on her lap and drew it back quickly. He leaned his head back onto the couch and closed his eyes, letting his thoughts join hers at Hogwarts. Not that he could stop them. His mind refused to be dragged away from the top of that tower when everything changed. He didn't know how he would feel when the shock wore off but for now the numbness consuming his body was something he knew to appreciate because it could only get worse from here.


	9. Feelin' Alright

**Disclaimer: Neither the character of Draco Malfoy nor any of the other characters you recognise from Harry Potter is mine. The chapter title is from the soundtrack to the House M.D. and is sung by Joe Cocker.**

_Hi._

_I didn't plan it like this, but today is the 2__nd__ May which means that it's the day the Battle of Hogwarts took place in Harry's world. It seems an appropriate day to post this chapter, then as it is about Draco's views on the world on the third anniversary of that day. This chapter is for all the characters we loved so much who died in battle._

_Hope you all have a good day._

_Jenny._

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Feelin' Alright.

Draco looked around himself as he walked along through the sunlit street. Diagon Alley had changed so much even in the relatively few years he had been alive.

The earliest memory he had of this street, although he was sure he must have been there countless times before he could remember, was when he was five years old going to get a new broom. Lucius had always bought him the latest model the moment it was released, if he couldn't bribe anybody to get it before.

Even at such a young age, he had not been like the other young children, staring around themselves at the window displays with wide eyes. There was no joy, no wonder at the magic around him as Narcissa pulled him by the hand down the cobbled street.

It was only a few years after the end of the First war. On certain days, the shop fronts of some stores were swathed in black, reminders of those who had been lost. Most days, however, there was nothing to indicate what had passed, other than the occasional plaque. He might have been too young to realise it then, but looking back, Draco knew that a key part of remembering and commemorating the past was to carry on with life, and that meant trying not to dwell too much on the horrors that had transpired but never letting yourself forget them either.

That day was one of those days, those where the shops were bright and open, people laughed as they shopped and there was no evidence that only a few short years before, the people who wandered Diagon Alley had cause to fear for their life and the lives of those close to them every minute they were awake, and woke up after horrific nightmares every night.

The visit was perfunctory. It was a case of going in, getting a broom and leaving, no browsing. There was no point; they had known what they had wanted before leaving the Manor.

Over the years, he had visited Diagon Alley many more times, too many to count. Each time had been for a purpose. Books, brooms, robes, Gringotts. It was never an opportunity just to look around. Nothing so frivolous.

In his early years, the place had changed very little. Only varying window displays and an increase in the ages of the familiar faces that he often saw in the area testified to the passage of time.

After the death of Cedric Diggory, and Harry Potter's repeated insistences that Lord Voldemort had returned, and Cornelius Fudge's assertions that both Dumbledore and Potter were lying, there had been a little change. People had seemed nervous despite the Ministry's reassurance, eyes darting around and not lingering too long in the open. At the time, Lucius had been delighted at the change. He had fed off the fear of others like a leech feeds off blood.

That had been then. It seemed the very real danger of losing his son had somewhat curbed Lucius' sadistic side, switched it from the predominant portion of his personality to the corner of his mind that was full of things better left alone. He had changed, at least as far as it Draco believed it was possible that a person _could _change. There could be no taking back what he had done in the past, but the Ministry had clearly decided his abandoning Voldemort during the last battle of Hogwarts was sufficient action to avoid his being sent to Azkaban. He and Draco both.

What had happened had happened. There was no way back for any of them and every single one of Draco's choices had been made based upon what he had believed was the best course of action for his own interests at the time. Most of them were selfish, but he couldn't be sorry for those if they helped keep him alive, helped bring him to where he was today.

It seemed beyond incredible that his family should be allowed to stay out of prison, but he was grateful for it. A lot more willing to admit to his failings these days, Draco knew he wouldn't have been strong enough. He'd have gone mad in a matter of days if he'd been made to go there. Died within months.

Fortunately his life had turned out better than that. Better than he could have imagined in those dark days when the task of murdering Albus Dumbledore weighed heavily on his mind.

Draco looked up as he walked past Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. This was one of those shops that always bore the evidence of what had passed. George Weasley would never forget his twin, and had taken steps to make sure nobody else visiting the shop would ever forget that his precious brother had existed.

In the corner of the window a life-sized smiling picture of the Weasley twins taken before the war. One of them had their arm around the other's shoulders; Draco couldn't tell which was which. It was a memory, preserved forever, of a time when George and Fred had believed that they were indestructible. They had each other and all was right with the world.

Below the picture, a legend in swirling gold letters, large, impossible to miss.

_Fred Weasley._

_April 1__st__ 1978- May 2__nd__ 1998._

_Mischief managed little brother._

Draco counted himself fortunate that he had not lost anybody who was so close to him. He had seen George a few times in the months following Fred's death and something indefinable had been missing from the red-haired man. Something that had been alive had died, something that had burned inside of him had been extinguished. Even knowing the twins as little as Draco did, he could see the change. Fred and George had come from the same place once, they had grown up together and Draco had never seen one without the other. It seemed inconceivable that Fred could have gone somewhere George wasn't able to follow.

He had seen strangers on the street give George a wide berth in those months when he was lost in grief. They had known, instinctively that something was terribly wrong and it couldn't be fixed.

George would always miss his twin, but he had pulled himself together to carry on the venture that he and Fred had begun together, in his twin's memory.

Draco was pulled out of his thoughts when a young boy sprinted across his path, causing him to pull up short. Rather than snap at the child, however, he carried on his way, just strolling down the street, no particular destination in mind.

It was good to come and remember sometimes. Walk down this street and remember it all the ways he had been. Cautious but warily hopeful when he was younger, giving way to complacent assuredness as Draco began to move into his teenage years and wizards and witches everywhere began to recognise their nightmares as simply that: nightmares. They could breathe easily knowing that Lord Voldemort- Draco still had to force himself to think his name, just as Dumbledore had always tried to teach his pupils to say the name- was gone, defeated by a child in a crib, and a mother's sacrifice.

It was now three years after the end of the final Battle of Hogwarts, and the Wizarding World would never truly heal. There were whispers everywhere, nothing you could point to in any definite way, but a feeling, a sense that nothing would ever be calm; a shadow would haunt their world forever.

Lord Voldemort had done too much damage to be forgotten. The fearsome man who had wanted to live forever would, in a way. It seemed too much of a gift to give that monster- for his name to be remembered, but it was too much of an injustice to those who had been lost to forget his name and theirs along with it.

Draco looked around himself at the deceptively cheery storefronts and sighed. The too-bright colours and decorative banners still looked as if they were trying too hard to look normal, particularly as the backdrop to the witches and wizards scurrying around with their eyes down and their faces solemn. They had thought they were safe last time. Draco thought they would probably always be a little nervous when gathered together as an easy target.

Sighing, he pulled up his sleeve to look at the watch on his wrist. He'd better leave. He'd got what he came for; a new quill set and some time to himself to think. Astoria would be getting ready; he was already going to be late picking her up. He smiled when he thought of her, his dark-haired saviour.

She was perfect, he decided as he turned to walk back in the direction of The Leaky Cauldron. Maybe not in the way he had been taught was right, not perfect in the way his mother had acted when he was younger and they had to be seen at the right functions. No, Astoria would never be content to be quiet on his arm.

She fought with him on an almost daily basis, she had her own mind and spoke it, she didn't let him get away with behaving like a four year old having a tantrum. At times they made each other so angry that one or the other would have to storm out to allow themselves to cool down. She also made him feel relaxed, made him laugh. She was perfect for him.

It wasn't some Beauty and the Beast story. She hadn't transformed him into a saint. She wasn't a saint herself. He had done too much, they had both had seen too much in their lives to ever be able to go back. The past couldn't be changed and because of that he was forever marked. He could never claim to be a completely good person (but then who could?) but he had redeemed himself in some areas, and hoped to continue doing so.

* * *

"You're late." Astoria's reprimand was contradicted by the smile that spread across her face when she opened the door to greet him.

He ran his eyes down her body, appreciatively eyeing her black dress, stopping at her conspicuously bare feet. "And you're not ready."

"I've just got to put my shoes on. It'll only take two seconds." She turned and made her way to the closet door in the hall. "So where are we going? Which restaurant?"

He smiled at the back of her head. She wasn't the most patient of people. "You'll find out soon enough."

"Right." She slid on a pair of black heels and walked back towards him. "See? That wasn't even two seconds. Let's go."

He waited while she locked the door, first with her keys and then shielded her door from unwelcome visitors with her wand, slipping it back into her bag when she was done.

"Come on." He took her hand and started to lead her down the street, past the alley they usually used for Apparition. She hung back a little, tugging on his arm and looking at him in confusion.

"We're not apparating?" she asked quietly, even though there was no one else in sight to hear her.

"No. It's a Muggle place we're going to so-" he indicated the a little way ahead. "I brought the car."

It would have been easy enough to go to a magical place. In fact, it would be easier than having to deal with the confusing currency and waiting times of a Muggle restaurant. But he wanted to put in the extra effort, prove to himself, that he had changed over the last few years. While he was still in Hogwarts, the idea of spending time in the presence of Muggles filled him with disgust, now no such emotion filled his heart. Instead, he looked down at Astoria walking next to him, marvelling at the surety of her steps in three inch heels on cobblestones.

His eyes drifted down, as they had so often recently, to rest upon the hand clasped in his, and the ring. It sat, small and elegant, upon her finger, and he smiled when the three diamonds set into the band were caught by a street light. It had been four months since he had asked her to marry him and still the proof of her acceptance made him fight a moronic grin. The ring was perfect for her which was, of course, why he had chosen it.

He moved his gaze up to her face. Her eyes watched her feet to make sure she didn't step in any of the numerous puddles and ruin her shoes. Finally they reached the car, and he opened the door to allow her to sit down in the passenger seat before he walked around to the driver's side.

He allowed a smile, more common these days but still rare enough to be noteworthy, onto his face as he settled himself. She didn't say anything, waiting in silence for him to start the car and watching a cat meander up the street through her window. He turned the key in the ignition and eased out onto the deserted street, driving them both slowly towards something as close to normality as they could have.


	10. Waiting On An Angel

**Disclaimer: Neither the character of Draco Malfoy nor any of the other characters you recognise from Harry Potter is mine. The chapter title is from the soundtrack to the House M.D. and is sung by Ben Harper.**

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Waiting On An Angel.

It felt strange in its ordinariness. It was just too normal for him. Other people got married. It had never occurred to him in his childhood that he would ever be the one getting married. Even after he had proposed to Astoria it had seemed an abstract idea. Not a bad idea, just a strange one.

He had heard that Granger had married Weasley a few months ago. That had been the least surprising news since Viktor Krum's name had emerged from the Triwizard Cup. (He was a world-renowned athlete, of course he would be chosen as the one most physically apt for the trials. His subsequent attraction to Granger had been a little harder to justify.) He had been expecting it for a long time, if he was honest.

He had expected them to be married before the first anniversary of the last battle. It was clear that they had been interested in each other as far back as Third Year. He supposed Granger had applied the brakes, not wanting to rush anything. She had always been the most cautious of her group of friends. But they had married, as it had always been clear that they would.

Potter was engaged, too. To the Weasley girl, once again as expected. Draco smirked, remembering a singing 'cupid,' an embarrassed Potter and a little redheaded girl, face flaming with mortification. It had been cruel to embarrass her, to draw attention to the fact that she had sent the valentine. In all fairness, though, it had been a guess. He hadn't known that Ginny Weasley had sent it. It was her reaction that gave it away. Shameful though it was he could still find some humour in the situation.

Draco stared at himself in the mirror, glancing over his formal attire with a critical eye. His robes were icy blue, and long. He wore nothing in the way of jewellery.

_At least not yet, _he thought, touching his bare ring finger with his thumb.

He frowned when his eyes fell upon a lump in the chest of his robes. He reached a long-fingered hand inside the flowing material and removed the culprit.

Staring at the ring box he held in his hand, he smiled to himself. It may have felt surreal, but if this was all a dream, he was going to enjoy it.

His mind fell onto Astoria, as it always did when he was left alone with his thoughts, secreted away in some unknown part of the Manor, kept from his sight until he saw her at the ceremony. It was her mother's idea, this separation prior to their union. He himself had scoffed at the silly superstition, but for a woman who was so stoic, Astoria's mother had fallen on the romance of the idea immediately and with enthusiasm. Draco himself did not see that the idea was very romantic. It was just making him tense, wondering where she was and what she was thinking. If he could see her, he could read her face. As it was, Mrs. Greengrass had insisted.

Mrs... Now that was a soothing thought. Mrs Malfoy. No, that sounded like his mother. Astoria Greengrass Malfoy? A smile spread wider. Yes, that was better.

The door opened with a loud click and Draco jumped, startled. Lucius slid into the room but hovered by the door, either uncomfortable or unwilling to come any closer. Draco didn't try to determine which- either would make him uneasy.

In the mirror, Draco saw Lucius' sharp eyes fall on the ring box still clutched in Draco's hand. Wordlessly he held his hand out and Draco turned and placed the velvet box onto his father's palm. Lucius flipped the box open with his thumb and inspected the plain gold band inside.

"We have many of these around the Manor. Heirlooms. You could have used one of those."

"We like this one."

"Very well." Lucius closed the box and handed it back to Draco. "Are you almost ready?"

"I'm ready."

"Your mother sends her best. She says Astoria is nearly ready and you had better go downstairs now."

It didn't escape Draco's notice that his father had not included his best wishes. Lucius was not overly fond of Astoria, perhaps because he had had his hopes set on Draco marrying Pansy Parkinson. Pansy's family were more highly regarded in pure blood circles, and Draco knew that even on his wedding day, fifteen minutes before the ceremony was due to begin, Lucius was probably still hoping that Draco would have a last minute change of heart. It didn't seem to matter that he and Astoria were very happy, and that Pansy currently in a relationship with another alumnus of Hogwarts; a young man who had been in the year below them. Slytherin, of course.

He followed his father out of the door and down the stairs in silence, wondering once again where Astoria was. Somewhere far enough away from his bedroom that there would be no chance of them running into each other but close enough for her to walk comfortably, bearing in mind the tradition of insensible shoes at weddings. And it would need an en suite. The second floor main bedroom, maybe.

When he entered the main hall, he stopped wondering and stared around the room. He was not one to hand out praise without due cause, but it was spectacular. In his years, his parents had held many partied here, dinners and meetings for the elite of the Wizarding World, but this look was his favourite. Most likely this was because it was for _him_. _His_ wedding. His and Astoria's.

There were flowers, purple and white hibiscuses, in stands all around the walls and a few bunches floating in the air. Chairs lined the aisle to the far end of the hall, where a raised platform stood, upon which Draco and Astoria would stand during the ceremony.

The room was brightly lit, thousands of candles hovered in the air (with magic at their disposal, the Malfoys had never seen the need for electricity.)

Lucius had drifted away somewhere. Draco didn't look too hard for him. Guests were milling around, and murmured words of encouragement to him as he passed them on the way to the platform. None of them raised their voices particularly loudly; there was something about soft lights and flower-perfumed air that persuaded people to keep noise to a minimum.

Astoria should be on her way down now. He last of the guests were sitting in their seats and the officiating Wizard was gently pulling on Draco's sleeve to move him towards the dais.

"This way, Mr. Malfoy, please," the small grey-haired Wizard said. Then, as if Draco was a child, he manoeuvred Draco to the correct position, only releasing his shoulders when he was satisfied. Draco let it slide in favour of watching the door into the room. It opened just a crack and Narcissa slid into the room, the smile on her face as happy as Draco had ever seen it. Narcissa, at least, approved of Astoria.

She caught his eye and smiled as she slipped up the aisle to take her place on the front row, Mrs Greengrass right behind her. They had only been seated a moment when the doors opened again, wide open this time, and he could see her.

Instantly, Draco smiled. It was an automatic reaction, to smile when he saw her, and because of their temporary separation and how breathtaking she was, the reaction was much more intense.

She was an angel. It was that simple. Her brown hair was piled on top of her head, exposing her smooth pale neck. She was smiling too; her eyes sparkled in her thin face. She wasn't wearing a lot of make-up, but she didn't need it.

Her white-dress was strapless, form-fitting and fell straight to the floor. It was simple, and it suited her. She was beautiful.

His inspection of her lasted until she had reached his side, and even as they turned to face the officiator, Draco was reluctant to do so, fearing that he had not memorised every detail yet. He continued to steal glances out of the corner of his eye at the women by his side. Finally he was able to turn to her again as the vows began and was immensely pleased when he saw that the smile on her face was still wide enough to rival his own.

"Do you, Draco Lacerta, take Astoria Nicole to be your wife now and forever?"

He agreed immediately, almost before the older Wizard had finished speaking.

"Do you, Astoria Nicole, take Draco Lacerta to be your husband now and forever?"

They had spoken about this moment several times before, fantasised about it, discussed what it would mean for them, but Draco was still gripped by the sudden fear that she would say no. He didn't truly believe that she would do that to him, but he couldn't stop the pounding of his pulse or the sudden shortage of breath that came on during the brief pause between the question and her affirmative answer. He released a breath and she gave him a look.

"In front of all those gathered here, I declare you bonded for life."

Draco reached for her, pulling her closer to kiss her. When she broke away, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him to her. She laughed lightly in her ear before whispering, "You really thought I'd say no? Do you know how much this dress cost?"

He joined in her laughter this time, slightly embarrassed, and took her hand to lead her back down the aisle. His father had already begun work for the next stage of the day, and was directing a group of Wizards at the back of the room to conjure tables. The whole process had been rehearsed several times, until it was as fast as it could be.

By the time Draco and Astoria had reached the end of the aisle, ten tables were set out in a perfect semi-circle, with a long head table as the straight edge. Each table was covered in a white cloth and had a centrepiece of either purple of white hibiscuses. This candles that had hovered over the ceremonial area now made their way to dance over the tables, the lights from the flames bounced off the shiny new plates and silver cutlery.

Draco sat down with his wife, Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy by his side and looked around him happily. He had some bad times in his life. He had made some bad choices, compounded and confused by even worse choices and there had been a time when he had been sure that he would never make it through alive. He had never thought he would be here.

Astoria grasped his hand underneath the table and he turned his attention towards his new wife. She was smiling still, and he was sure that her cheeks must be hurting.

He leaned over to kiss her quickly before his father stood up to begin the speeches.


	11. God, Please Let Me Go Back

**Disclaimer: Neither the character of Draco Malfoy nor any of the other characters you recognise from Harry Potter is mine. The chapter title is from the soundtrack to the House M.D. and is sung by Josh Rouse.**

_Sorry this chapter took so long. There is one chapter left after this one and I'm hoping to get it posted a lot faster than I did this one. Anyway, hope you like it._

_Jenny._

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God, Please Let Me Go Back.

"Dad?" Scorpius' voice didn't register until the second time he called. "Dad!"

Draco pulled his eyes down to his son. "What is it, Scorpius?"

Scorpius' eyes, so like Draco's own, stared unblinkingly into his father's. There was concern in the icy blue, although not many people would be able to read it. It seemed to be a Malfoy trait to try and hide as many emotions as possible. It wasn't a trait that Draco liked, but he believed that he and Astoria had at least made an improvement on the way Draco was raised. At least Scorpius had never been told that emotion was a weakness; he was just a naturally cautious child.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing. Where's your trunk?"

Scorpius indicated a trolley with a trunk and an owl cage a little way away. Astoria was crouching by it, poking owl treats through the bars to an owl which did not look pleased to be confined after a summer of being able to fly uninhibited. She stood up and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she walked back over to them.

"Armand is not happy being locked up. You'd better not leave him alone too long, Scorpius." Astoria laid her hand gently onto Draco's arm and smiled up at him. A crease of confusion crossed her brow when she saw her husband's attention was elsewhere. She followed his eyes and murmured her understanding.

Draco looked at her. "What?"

She nodded over at another area of the platform. "Harry Potter."

Scorpius' head whipped round to where his parents were looking and his eyes swept over the large assembly. "Why are you watching them?"

"Sometimes it's interesting to see what changes time has brought." Draco was surprised to see just how _little _time had seemed to alter the dynamics between the ex-Gryffindors standing a little way away. The same group of friends, the same manner of movement, the same easy banter between them. Only their physical appearance and the presence of their children gave evidence to just how much time had passed since Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were at Hogwarts together.

"Do you know what the kids are like?" Scorpius spoke again, directing his question to both his parents at once.

Draco blinked, surprised, not by the question's strangeness but by its familiarity. He remembered asking the same thing of his mother, sixteen years ago. He had asked her what Harry Potter was like. He'd heard stories all his childhood but his mind had wondered if his parents had known anything about the boy beyond the stories. Lucius had jumped in, telling Draco that the boy had thwarted the Dark Lord's great plans. It had been clear from the tone of voice that Lucius loathed the child he had never met and Draco had never been foolish enough to voice his curiosity again.

Astoria answered their son. "No. We've never met them. I'm sure you'll be able to make up your own mind soon enough."

"I'll probably never speak to them anyway. They'll be in Gryffindor, won't they?"

Draco shrugged. "It doesn't run in the family. They might not be." Draco turned his eyes back to the small group and was taken aback to see them staring at him. He overcame his shock quickly enough to offer a sharp nod of recognition and look away again. Old habits die hard. Years of animosity could not be erased and after their years of feuding at Hogwarts mutual courtesy was all anyone could hope for.

Draco watched his wife straighten his son's robes absent-mindedly, remembering his own first journey on the Hogwarts Express. It was Scorpius' turn now to step into the unknown and Draco had no doubt that his son would do a better job at it than he had. At least he would probably avoid making enemies before he'd even reached the school.

The whistle sounded down the platform and Astoria instinctively turned towards the noise, even though there was nothing to see in that direction.

"That's your cue, Scorpius." Astoria said as she turned back to her son and leaned forward to hug him tightly. When Astoria finally pulled away, blinking quickly, Scorpius faced his father. Again, Draco's familiarity with Scorpius allowed him to recognise the fear creeping into his son's eyes despite how he was trying to hide it.

"Make me proud, son." Draco offered his hand and shook Scorpius' own. "You'll be just fine."

Scorpius still looked doubtful as Draco clapped him on the shoulder and walked a few feet to where Astoria had left Scorpius' owl, Armand, and his trunks. As he turned the trolley to push it to the train he heard Astoria behind him, comforting a nervous Scorpius.

"We promise you'll be alright."

After wrestling Scorpius' trunk into an overhead rack in an empty compartment, Draco stepped back onto the platform and walked over to where Astoria was clutching their son to her tightly.

"Let him go, Astoria. He'll miss the train."

Astoria released Scorpius reluctantly and Scorpius, his clothes ruffled by his mother's embrace, turned to his father to shake his hand once more.

"See you soon, Scorpius."

"See you, dad."

Draco leaned in closer to his son. "And don't look so scared." He smiled at his son who nodded and inhaled deeply as he jumped up onto the train and disappeared.

Draco stood next to Astoria and they watched their son wave from the window as the train pulled out. They stood together, perfectly still, even after the bright red train had disappeared and only moved when the platform had emptied a bit and they could leave without having to be jostled in a crowd.

"He'll be alright." Astoria's utterance was inflectionless, but by her tight, nervous grasp on her arm, Draco knew it to be a question.

"Of course." They stepped through the barrier into King's Cross together, narrowly avoiding walking into an old Muggle man pushing a trolley. Astoria apologised as they continued walking away. The man shook his head and straightened his trolley, walking in the other direction.

Draco spotted the Potters and the Weasleys were getting into their cars at the far end of the car park when Draco and Astoria stepped out into the windy September morning. He watched them pull away and then looked over at Astoria who smiled and pulled his arm to lead him over to where they had left the car. He smiled back at her and breathed deeply, allowing the cold air to fill his lungs. His wife was by his side and their son was off to have the time of his life at Hogwarts.

Although Draco might regret the way his own school years started at Hogwarts, he couldn't complain about the way things turned out.


	12. You Can't Always Get What You Want

**Disclaimer: Neither the character of Draco Malfoy nor any of the other characters you recognise from Harry Potter is mine. The chapter title is from the soundtrack to the House M.D. and is sung by Band From TV (Originally by the Rolling Stones.)**

_Here's the last chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who has read this, reviewed, put it on their alerts or favourites list and I hope you all enjoy the last chapter._

_Jenny._

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You Can't Always Get What You Want.

Draco had never graduated from Hogwarts. He had, of course, attended Astoria's graduation, and Scorpius', and could still see them both, dressed in Slytherin green shaking hands with Professor McGonagall, but he had never gone through such a ceremony himself. He hadn't even gone back to Hogwarts after the end of the war. It wasn't that he hadn't been given the option; he just decided that it wouldn't be the best idea.

So, he had finished his education alone, taught himself, took his exams and got his NEWTs at the end of it. But he never really graduated. It didn't really matter to him.

Nothing much had mattered to him after the war, there was so much devastation everywhere but Astoria had pulled him back. Astoria and then Scorpius.

His son had made him proud. In comparison to Draco's own, Scorpius had had an easy life but he hadn't let that make him complacent. His studies, his career, his personal life, he had tried his best in all of them.

When he had announced that Rose Weasley was his girlfriend, neither Astoria nor Draco knew how to react. He had never even mentioned her in a romantic context before, so it was a surprise when he had asked if he could bring her home.

She was a charming girl and, despite Draco's history with both of her parents, he found himself warming to the intelligent red head. Scorpius had looked at Rose as if she were the one who had discovered magic, so it was less of a shock when two years after leaving Hogwarts he had announced his plans to marry her. And Draco felt no objections at all about her parentage. That had been three years ago and judging by his present location, Draco surmised that their relationship was as strong as it had ever been.

Draco stood up suddenly from the hard plastic chair in the waiting room and stood perfectly still for a moment, feeling the not-quite-painful rush of blood back to his feet. He had been sitting still too long. He looked at the clock hanging on the wall. Two and a half hours since Scorpius had called his parents sounding simultaneously excited and totally terrified to tell them that it was starting. They had apparated to St. Mungo's immediately.

He had been shaking, head to foot when they had arrived, and looked as shell-shocked as the time Hannah Bedwin had grabbed him and kissed him at his eighth birthday party. ("_On the _lips, _Mum, on the lips!" He had exclaimed while wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve._)

"She's been in labour for a few hours but the doctor said it's getting close now. Hermione and Ron are on their way. Rose wants her mum." He used his hand to steady himself on the wall.

"Don't take it personally, Scorpius, I wanted my mother, too."Astoria beamed at him. "How are you feeling?"

Scorpius was slowly turning green.

"It's going to be fine, Scorpius." Draco said. "You'll never forget tonight, trust me. In a few hours you'll see- this is the best night of your life."

Scorpius nodded. "I know." But he still looked faintly sick.

Ron and Hermione Weasley had run into the room, as fast as they were allowed in a hospital, and their wide eyes found Scorpius immediately. They had made their way over to the Malfoys in the next second.

It was hard to make out specific words in the jumble of noise that came next. Ron was demanding to know how 'his baby' was and where she was. Hermione wanted to speak to the doctor and see her daughter. She also enquired whether Scorpius was feeling alright (a remark brought on, Draco was sure, by Scorpius' green sweaty face and heavy breathing.) Astoria and Draco listened to the Weasleys in silence exchanging greetings when Ron and Hermione were quiet enough to hear them.

Hermione had been led away by Scorpius and Ron, Astoria and Draco settled in to wait. That had been over two hours ago.

Draco walked across the floor, feeling the muscles in his legs stretch. Astoria didn't look up from her book, but Ron's eyes followed Draco closely. Draco met his eyes and nodded, courteous if not particularly friendly. He didn't say anything, worried that trying to force a response from Ron would cause the other man to vomit.

Ron stared back at Draco, apparently unable to move anything other than his eyes. He was turning a shade of sea green to rival Scorpius' earlier colour.

Draco sat back down and Ron went back to staring into space.

Astoria turned a page.

Draco crossed his legs.

Ron let his head fall back against the wall.

Twenty minutes later Hermione walked into the waiting room, looking tired, pale and sweaty, and beaming from ear to ear. Ron, Draco and Astoria stood as one.

"She's had a girl." Hermione ran to her husband and wrapped her arms around him, both of the exclaiming in happiness. Astoria squeezed Draco's hand but with Hermione's words a kind of haze had enveloped Draco and he was stunned.

A granddaughter. A bubble of delight spread outwards from Draco's stomach ending at his face, stretching a smile across it. Somewhere, not too far from where he was standing, his son and daughter-in-law had become parents, bringing a little girl into their family and giving Draco a granddaughter.

The thoughts swirling through his head solidified into one idea. He wanted to see her. Before he could even voice this idea, Hermione was ushering all the new grandparents down the corridor into a private room half way down.

Rose was sitting up in bed, Scorpius hovering by her side, bent over her and the bundle in her arms. Hermione's smile had nothing on the grin on Scorpius' face. Even Rose, completely exhausted as she clearly was, was beaming. Scorpius looked up as the door opened. The green from his face was gone and his eyes were shining.

"Hi," he whispered.

"Hi," Astoria answered for all of them. Like they were in a library, there was something about the atmosphere that made all of them whisper without being told. It felt disrespectful to disturb the careful stillness of the room.

Draco's eyes were fixed on the small child in Rose's arms. He listened in silence to the answers to Astoria's questions about the weight and length of the baby, her enquiries as to how Rose was feeling, but didn't stop looking at the little girl wrapped in a blanket. He couldn't see much of her but that didn't change the fact that she was one of the best things he had seen in a long time.

Suddenly she moved, or rather, was passed into Hermione's arms. She cooed at the small baby, stroking a pink cheek with the back of her index finger. There wasn't much time for her to settle, though, as all the grandparents wanted to hold the new addition to the family.

She went from Hermione to Ron, Ron to Astoria, and then finally was passed to Draco who held her reverently, as if she were made of glass. He hadn't felt this way since Scorpius was a baby. It felt strange to hold something so small and helpless.

Tiny eyes, the same colour as Draco's and Scorpius', blinked up out of a round face topped by flaming red hair.

Everyone continued talking around him, but Draco couldn't take his eyes off the baby girl in his arms and almost all of the words washed over him. He only really noticed three.

Mira Bethany Malfoy.

He had everything he needed and he was happy.


End file.
